The Runaway: A Stardew Valley Story

Heir of Joja

Joshua Jones is the only son of Jonah Jones and Janice Jones. There are only two famous families with that level of commitment to J names, the religious bunch with twenty-plus kids and the founding family of JojaMart. My fiancé belongs to the latter.

Josh should be home any minute, and I can't pretend to be on my period any longer. He's again at the point when he doesn't care. I'm not entirely sure why he insists on making me his prime target of interest when we both know that our relationship is just for show. My parents traded a few hundred of their best real-estate locations for the opportunity to get their name out there. Heaven only knows why that meant me marrying the Joja heir.

I shudder at the thought of heirs, and my attention returns to the little stick on the bathroom counter. The five minutes were up five minutes ago, but the thought of confirming my suspicions leaves me more nauseated than before. After the last bites of breakfast leave my stomach, I steel myself against the rim of the toilet and stand to my feet. One look is all it will take. One look at the...

Waiting for me in bright red are two little bars.

I double check the instructions on the box. Then triple-check. Panic sucks the life from my veins and fills them with ice-cold adrenaline. A tiny human.His tiny human. Josh has an heir, and we aren't even married yet. Yabba, why couldn't it be one of the bottle blondes he brings home from the club?

My phone vibrates.

[Gussy:] Are you sure you can do this on your own?

[Gussy:] Girrllll. I am worried about you!

[Gussy:] So help me, Yabba, I will bust up in that house if you don't answer me.

[Gussy:] Joooooyyyyyyy

Groaning at the barrage of texts, I type back an answer, but a sickening feeling takes over. Gussy and I have been texting in code ever since my fiancé forced me to join his JojaMobile plan. Every word I send is logged and accessible for the Jones family. Just like my entire life is and will be from now on.

[Me:] Yeah, it was nothing it turns out.

[Me:] Thanks for all your help! I don't know what I would do without a friend like you!

Gussy will figure it out. He always manages to come out on top in things like this. It's a perk of working the media. I guess technically, he works for the media, but somehow it always comes out the other way around. Gussy is too fabulous for anything else.

A plan begins to form before I can sort out the long-term details, and by details, I mean consequences. I tuck the pregnancy test into my bra and strike a match for the box. There's a single backpack that Gussy gave me for my birthday that doesn't have the Joja logo on it, and I fill it with everything I can find that wasn't purchased by my mother, my father, or a member of the Jones family which comes out to one T-shirt, a pair of short overalls, a single bra, and a sketchbook so old that I taped the cover last winter. Why did I agree to let Joanna take me shopping for lingerie?

The bathroom cabinet is poorly stocked with Joja knockoffs of a few first-aid items. Thankfully, I got a cold two months ago, and my mother had a Postfriends delivery of some Joja Nightquid dropped off. Josh also has seasonal allergies, so there's a half bottle of Jojadryl. I weigh the options before deciding to go with the Nightquid. It stirs into an unholy portion of vodka easily, and I mask the sticky scent with pineapple juice.

The sound of JojaMart's not-so-state-of-the-art home security echoes from the foyer into the kitchen. The electronically female voice issues an error warning that gives me just enough time to put away the cough syrup and arrange the rest to look like I poured a freshly mixed drink. By the time footsteps sound through the hallway, I am perched on a barstool with a glass in hand paused midway to my lips.

"Josh! I wasn't sure if you were coming home tonight or not," I feign.

"So you just thought you'd drink without me?" his voice is low and threatening.

Tossing my hair nervously over a shoulder, "That was rude of me. I'm so sorry, honey. Here take this, and I'll make me something else."

Hazel eyes narrow in my direction as Josh snatches the glass from my hand and downs it in three long gulps. He wipes his mouth with a pristine white sleeve and burps. "Forget that. You finished with your lady stuff?"

I swallow. "I had some discharge this morning."

"Sounds like a this morning problem." Josh takes me in with a cold, empty gaze. Of course, I look put together. That's one of the most important things my mother ever warned me about. Always look good. You never know who will see you. And above all, dress like you're worthy of a Jones. "Go upstairs and get changed. I had a long day."

My eyes blink back something wet. I force myself to smile despite the bile in my throat. "Give me ten minutes, and I'll get everything ready, just how you like it."

I take each step slowly. The sound of rustling bottles winds through the sparse house tells me Josh will probably help himself to a glass of brandy as well. For a brief moment, I wonder if this will kill him, but the satisfaction that fills me at the thought startles me so badly that I squelch the image instantly. At the top of the stairs, I head for the thermostat and push the heat to a warm upper seventy. Then, I find the lavender pillow spray from the closet and cover the bed sheet to sham. The last touch is asking the Joja speaker to start a soothing playlist.

Outside the master bedroom, the stairs groan with 225 pounds of drunken male. My heart thuds with every step, and my head clouds with anxiety. I shake myself just in time for the door to burst in with an already shirtless fiance glowering in its wake.

"Why aren't you... What... wearing?" Josh slurs and sneers at the outfit that is neither revealing nor provocative.

"You said it was a long day, so I thought that we could start with a massage? I can rub on some of those special oils your moth--"

The back of Josh's beefy hand collides with my left cheek stealing the last of my words. He uses the following moment of crippled weakness against me and grabs me by the shirt, pushing me against the wall. His breath is putrid and hot on my cheek.

"You know that doesn't do it for me."

I don't squirm or fight as he presses his body further onto mine. That sort of thing just excites him further. Instead, I use what little leverage I hold in my left hand to caress a short lock of sandy blonde hair. I wind it around my index finger and toy with the lock like a real temptress from the movies.

"Baby, look at you," I croon mimicking the sultry purrs of some long-forgotten actress. "Why don't you lay down for a little and let me take care of you? Then, we'll do things the way you like it." When the mouth roughly traveling the length of my neck doesn't stop, I add, "I promise."

My fiance breaks long enough to glare at me for several moments before finally releasing me with a grunt. Only years of practice keep me from sucking a gasp at the newfound air in my lungs. Josh doesn't so much as spare me another glance before positioning himself on the bed in a stiff and angry lounge. I move to follow, but he huffs.

"I -- told you -- change," Josh says and then yawns.

"Yes, of course," I mumble. "Go ahead and lie down on your stomach. Make yourself comfortable."

I step into the closet and wait. The sounds of the mattress squeaking under Josh's weight grow quiet. I count to one hundred and then two hundred before daring to step close enough to listen for the sound of his breathing. At first, I can't make out anything over the rush of blood in my ears, but then, Josh begins snoring softly.

And with that, I slip a hand into Josh's pocket and fish out a slender wallet made of expensive leather and run.

WARNING: This is a work of fiction. Do not attempt mixing alcohol with medications. Always follow the directions on medicine labels or as a doctor has prescribed.