Pregnant and Homeless✔

Chapter 4

Just before I could hit deep sleep, I heard shouting so I jumped up quickly, rubbed my eyes and looked around me. Four men were standing beside the swing having a heated argument, and I could hear what they were saying.

"We messed up, big time." said the one who was wearing a hoody.

The one furthest away from him went up and punched him. His hair looked gold from where I was sitting. "We messed up? No, you were the one who didn't collect the goods. Don Giovanni is going to kill you."

"He's going to kill all of us." a short dark hair one said.

The silent one shook his head, "Not if we kill you first." he lifted the gun he was holding and shot the hoodied man in the head. I couldn't hold back the small scream as the man fell back to his death.

The remaining three turned and looked in my direction when they heard the scream, and they spot me.

Every bone in my body was telling me to run, but I couldn't not when the man was holding a gun in his hands. Not when he looked like a man who didn't miss shots.

I trembled with fear as the men walked towards me.

I bent my head, looking at the ground in fear.

"You were not meant to see that." one of them said. "Lift your head."

I ignored his command and kept my head down. I was afraid to lift my head to see the faces of the men who just killed their partner.

"I said to lift your head before I lifted it for you," the same man shouted.

I jumped at the loudness of his voice and lifted my head. All three men were hovering over me. I couldn't see their faces because there wasn't any light shinning. That was one of the reasons I chose this spot. It made me hard to spot. But I guess it wasn't that hard because they spotted me as they turned around.

The man with the gun was directly in front of me, looking down. "What are you doing out here all alone?" he asked. It seemed as if he was the one doing all the talking. He was, after all, the only one with a gun in his hands.

I forced my mouth to open, "I'm homeless." They weren't any other answers than to tell them the truth.

"Is that right?" he asked rhetorically. I could hear the slight amusement in his voice, and it made me tremble. Was he planning on raping me?

I quickly nod.

"Did you see anything just now?" he asked, looking back at the dead body that laid only meters away. He knew I saw, why else would I have screamed.

I quickly shook my head, "No. I saw nothing. I was sleeping, and I heard the gunshot. I didn't see anything I swear."

He nodded, "Well too bad. I still have to kill you." he looked down at the gun in his hands and admired it.

I shook my head and clasped my hands, "Please no. I'm begging you. Please don't kill baby and me."

"Baby?" he asked with a frown.

I nod and move the blanket off my body, showing my seven-month belly. "Please. I'm begging you, please don't kill me. I won't tell anyone, I swear; I won't. As a matter of fact, I'll leave New York tonight please don't kill me." My eyes were burning, and my chest felt heavy as if it were filled with stones. I could no longer see clearly. All I know and could think about was my baby, protecting her. My mother. How would she react if she found out I was dead? It would kill her as much as it killed me every day thinking about what she did.

"How old are you?" he asked, still looking down at his gun.

My throat started to tighten as I answered honestly, "Eighteen." In my head, I was saying, 'I'm too young to die' but am I? People die at birth, some persons don't make it past 10, and I'm 18, technically an adult. Am I too young to die? Weren't the others too young to die also?