His Vice

Ch 1

As much fun as it was living in Manhattan, she wanted to go back home, her real home. She knew she couldn't go back to her apartment, but that didn't mean she couldn't live in the same area. She already had the identification created for her, which allowed her to move to Throg's Neck, to Park Of Edgewater. It wasn't the richest area of the city, crime flustered there, but it was home.

She used her money to rent out a basement suite, living in modern comfort. She kept her head down and her mouth shut, knowing she was sure Max had probably sent people to look for her. She knew she should have left New York altogether, started somewhere new, away from any chance of him tracking her down. But, New York was still home too. She wouldn't know where else to go.

She hoped she had gone far enough, but even with Manhattan on the other edge of the city, it still caused havoc on her nerves. She was on constant guard, always looking at people by double backing, having no idea where their loyalties lied. And, it was this constant stress that she suspected was causing her to be so sick.

It started about a month after she left, following a fever that had her unable to stand. She remembered very little but had somehow found herself stumbling into an emergency clinic. When she found out what it really was, she couldn't believe it. But there it was, on the small black and white screen of the ultrasound. A little baby, it looked like an alien that had burrowed itself inside her. His baby.

She had a panic attack when she found out, crying hysterically. She demanded they remove it, but they insisted that she take some time to think about it, think with a rational mind on what she really wanted before they make any acts she couldn't take back. So, she did, glancing down at her stomach, placing a hand against it. It was too young to even show yet, but just knowing that it was inside her, terrified her. But, the more she thought about abortion, the more she started to hate herself.

She had always wanted to be a mother since she was a child, she dreamed of being the perfect wife, with perfect children. As a toddler, she used to push around her own stroller, piling her dolls into it and buckling them in, making sure they were properly restrained so they wouldn't be injured. She would push them down the street, towards the park with her mother not far behind. This child may have been his, but it was also hers. And 8 months and a handful of doctors' appointments later, mountains of pregnancy vitamins, he came out with a bang.

She nearly passed out from the pain, screaming as she pushed in the hospital room. She did it alone, with no one to help her, hold her hand, wipe the sweat from her face, to tell her that they loved her. He was beautiful, ebony hair and his bright ocean blue eyes, she looked like she was looking into the eyes of Max, small little hands that reached out, grabbing ahold of her sweaty fingers. She knew she had made the right choice.

He was the sweetest little boy, he never cried, he just smiled, laughing his adorable baby laugh as she bounced him on the bed, a trip under his arms in his onesie. But, it was still hard, the first few months being the worst, when she was awake constantly, unable to sleep as she cared for him, rocking him softly to sleep in the darkness of the early morning. She wanted to give him everything, brand new clothes, the nicest toys, but she couldn't. Instead, his things were from the local thrift store, worn with seams breaking. She couldn't be too mad at Maxwell, because he gave her Maxxy.

The tenant upstairs loved Maxxy, they would offer to babysit almost constantly. She was grateful, in those times she just needed a break, a moment to cry alone, in the dark, about everything, especially about the fact that she felt like she couldn't give Maxxy the life he deserved.

She did odd jobs, trying to add to the money she had stolen that was continuing to dwindle. But, with Maxxy still so young, she couldn't leave him alone long enough to hold a steady job. Their groceries came from the tiny convenience store just down the block, next to the TV repair shop.

She remembered that day vividly, the day she learned what Max had done, what he did for her.

She was walking across the cement sidewalk, with the intent of getting some milk and cereal for breakfast. But, passing the TV store she paused suddenly, spying a glimpse of what was on the screens in the window. She reeled back, pressing her hands against the glass in disbelief. The news was on, and the headline read. Shooting in the New York Penitentiary. The petite blonde woman spoke quickly, video footage of the penitentiary behind her.

"Early this morning, prisoners and guards of the New York Penitentiary were terrified when a single shot rang out through the morning air, hitting an inmate in the head as he stood in the prison yard, killing him instantly. The victim, Donovan Jenkins, was 12 months from being released, spending the last 4 years in prison for drug trafficking charges. The police traced the shooter's position to an abandoned building a few blocks away from the prison, but they have yet to find any other leads to the shooter's identity-"

She nearly fell over, leaning heavily against the glass. Donovan..was dead. And she knew exactly who it was that did it, and knew that the police would never track him down. Hell's Heaven never left evidence behind.

She shivered at the memory, letting it fall to her subconscious, and instead, focus on feeding the small infant in front of her, sitting in the wooden high chair, being given small spoonfuls of a mango puree. Maxxy loved mango. He looked so excited for every bite, getting it all over his face. She smiled, grabbing a napkin, wiping his chubby baby cheeks.

Maxxy was very vocal, he would scream to get her attention, make happy noises, but what worried her, is that despite being a year and three months old, Maxxy had yet to speak his first word. It unnerved her, wondering if something was wrong. She had read that it often meant there was a developmental delay when they didn't speak at a year old. But, if that was the case, she had no idea what to do, how to get help. It scared her, made her wonder if she had done something wrong, had she raised him wrong? was it her fault? the thought had her eyes glossing, the need to cry.

She had no idea how to be a Mom, all she could think of was what she remembered of her own childhood, and with no one to assure her everything was going to be ok, it made it even worse. Laura, her landlord, insisted that she should go out, have some fun, do whatever normal 22-year-olds did that didn't have a child to look after.

She took Maxxy for good measure, bidding Harmony out the door. Harmony didn't know what to do, walking mindlessly through the nearly empty streets, the only light being the bulbs above her head. It was nice to just walk, get a chance to think in peace, at least having a moment when she could forget the worries, breathe in the cool city air, shut her eyes, and indulge in it. But, the bad part about letting her mind wander, is that it always seemed to fall back to him, his eyes, his smile, how beautiful it felt to be in his arms. But, in a second the relief of life was snapped away.

She was grabbed, a cloth held over her mouth. She panicked, struggling against the arms holding her back. But, she felt herself falling sleepy suddenly, something soaked into the cloth, what she was breathing in, made her slump in his arms, her eyes falling closed.