Untouchable

Chapter 30: Culmination

And here it is.

Thanks again to my original editors from fanficiton.net. Especially Whitney Ross who started this story with me so long ago. She is the one who encouraged me to start writing, who told me this idea wasn't too bad. As she said in the beginning, "Let's have a baby!"

Thank you to my few readers here on Wattpad ;) I've really appreciated your votes and especially your comments!

Warning: adult content and violence. Mention of physical and sexual assault.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Chapter 30: Culmination

Without warning, or perhaps with a lot of warning and a little bit of baiting from Will, Jimmy barreled towards us, yelling loudly.

"Hello?"

"Dad!"

And he took a swing not at Will, but at me.

And damn it hurt.

His right hook came directly at my cheek, before Will or I could react. The second he hit me, my face exploded, like it was on fire. My vision blurred, the colors of the street blending together, the blacks and grays and browns muddling into a kindergarten art project mess.

Not a second later the back of my head collided with something; it felt like it cracked open like an egg.

Then everything went black.

Before me was a long dark hallway. The corridor reminded me of a movie I'd watched on PBS, one of those period pieces. The floor and the walls were built of gray stone. A distant dripping could be heard, like the time when Mom broke the faucet on our kitchen sink and it took two weeks to convince her to call the plumber. She kept trying to fix it herself, until there was a constant drip. I would lie in my bed counting the drops as I fell asleep.

Not knowing what to do, I hesitantly stepped forward. I looked down to find my feet naked, not a sock, shoe, or slipper in sight. I scrunched my toes and shivered as I took another step on the biting stone. I reached my arms around myself, rubbing up and down to get warm. I was wearing the white sun dress Mom got for me a few summers ago, but I never wore. It never got warm enough to wear in Washington, even on the hottest day in August, and I never visited Dad to get any use out of it. It was a thin lacy fabric, one only Ali could name. It had skinny straps that crisscrossed over my back, but left most of it bare.

I looked over my shoulder, nervous. A wind brushed past me, blowing my hair in my face and my dress through my legs.

In the distance I could see a door with a light shining underneath it.

Looking over my shoulder once more, I picked up my slow pace to a jog, my feet slapping the floor. I slid to a stop in front of the door, placing my hands on the unsanded wood. If I ran my hands down it, I would receive a number of splinters. The door handle was an old fashioned metal ring, as if I were in a medieval castle. I glanced back down the long stone corridor, not ruling that possibility out.

I tugged on the ring, hoping to open the door, but nothing budged. Leaning my ear against the crack I could hear voices beyond.

"Shut up!"

Crying increased from either a baby or an infant. My breath hitched and I immediately placed my hands on my center, seeking reassurance from my baby. But she wasn't there. I had no pregnancy bump; I had no evidence of her.

The crying pitched higher into an inconsolable wail.

"I said, shut up, you little bitch!"