Don't Give Up On Me [Book 2]

Chapter 8

Leah's Point Of View

"I was angry and I don't regret shit."

There he was, standing in the broken door, leaning against it's frame. His hair was a small bit longer than before, his shoulders broader and his face more defined. He was wearing what he wore the last day I saw him.

"Obviously not." I muttered as I looked to the ground, staring at a part of the baby bed.

We stood there in silence, when all I wanted was a civil conversation, but I knew it would never happen.
As I glanced up I saw him staring intensely at me, making uncomfortable.

"Why did you run away?" He asked, making me tense up.

"Why did you trash the room?" I asked, to avoid his question.

"Leah..."

"No, I worked my fucking ass off, and spent every penny on this room, to make him feel like he had a good and proper family and you just destroy everything, I just," I sighed,"In case you haven't noticed it, I am not some snobby rich girl coming from the Hollywood hills!" I let out.

"Leah, you don't yell at me." He said, clenching his fists.

"But what if I do? Don't you understand that this is not some minor problem? You broke the fucking window in a neighbourhood like that?!" I screamed, the baby stirring a bit.

He walked towards me and tore me up from where I was sitting and slammed me against the wall.
"You do not," he paused,"yell at me."

His eyes were filled with nothing but hatred as they looked into my fear filled. He had never pushed me before, not like that.

"Major problem?" He laughed evilly, still pinning my arms to the wall.

"Do you know what a major problem is? When you go to jail because of murder. Murder, that you only committed in order to protect one girl and yourself. That you save that girl several times, that you fall in love with her like that and the worst of all you fall for her game." He said through gritted teeth, his hold on my arms increasing, making me wince.

"I never played a game."

"BULLSHIT," he yelled, his arms flying up," if you weren't playing a game why did you run, huh? Why the fuck do you have a child and live with fucking Zahir?! I'VE NEVER MEANT ANYTHING TO YOU!"

Tears started to form in my eyes.

"You know that's not true." I said, my voice strangled, I was bound to cry.

"Do I, now?" He asked looking at me one more time, before heading for the stairs and out of my house. I could hear the door crash.

An hour later, I was still lying on the ground, crying my heart out as I flash-backed the pregnancy and everything that happened.

* * * *

"What does it say?" Zahir asked, rubbing my back as I stared blankly at the pregnancy test.

"Two lines." I whispered, shocked to myself.

"That means?"

"Yes, I'm pregnant." I whispered absently.

How was I going to raise a child with only 17 years? This couldn't be happening, my boyfriend was in jail for lifetime, I was living with my mother. I couldn't ever give this kid a proper future, not now, not ever, my life was way to complicated, it was too dangerous and careless to throw a child in it.

Zahir stared at me also lost in his thoughts.

"You're gonna keep it, right?" He asked, looking at my tummy, that didn't show any sign of having a living existence inside yet.