Second Chances

Chapter 5: A Sixteen Year Age Difference

What's that? Another chapter! What's it about? OH HO HO, YOU'LL SEE. Get's a little dramatic, but also it's cute and I love it. It birthed one of my favorite characters I've ever created. So, you know, LET'S PARTY. 

Warning: Google translate French & Anastasia's dad is a piece of garbage

Much Love, Krissy

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Sophomore Year (Two Months Later):

"You're what?!" I exclaim, gawking at my mother. She holds her hand over her stomach, smiling almost nervously at me.

"Anastasia, ma douce petite fille (my sweet little girl)...I'm pregnant again," she repeats. I can't believe what I'm hearing. My mother is pregnant?

"Mère (mother)...I'm going to be sixteen when this baby is born. I don't understand why...Father didn't want me in the first place. What is he going to say about this one? How long have you known?" I ask, taking one of her hands. She squeezes my hand and rubs her thumb across my hand.

"Three months," she says. I jerk back away from her, eyes wide.

"Trois mois?! Pourquoi m'as-tu gardé ça si longtemps? (Three months?! Why did you keep this from me for so long?)" I exclaim, my French accent more prominent than ever. She sighs and sits on the bed, waving me over. I take a deep breath and sit next to her. Yelling at my mother will solve nothing. She holds my hands between hers, squeezing my fingers.

"Your father does not know. I wanted to tell you first," she says. My frown deepens, but I squeeze her hands back.

"What are we going to do? How are you going to tell father?" I ask, concerned. My father didn't want to have me in the first place. I'm worried how he'll react to another child. My mother pats my knee.

"Don't worry about that, dear. Everything will be just fine," she says. She gets up and leaves my room. Somehow, I don't quite believe her.

There's crashing noises from downstairs, as well as some yelling. This is far more common than it should be, but I'm used to it. This is just how my parents are. My father will likely leave for a couple hours after the argument, but he's usually back by the time I wake up in the morning. I try covering my head with a pillow, but the kitchen is just below my bedroom, so it doesn't help. I finally decide to get up. I need to get out of here for a while. I find some paper and scribble a note down on it.

Maman, (Mom)

Had to get away from the yelling. Gone to John's.

Love, Ana

I leave the note on my bed before I get dressed and pull on a jacket, opening my bedroom door. The yelling is louder, but I'm still quiet as I creep down the stairs. I take a key for the front door and stick it in my pocket before slipping out silently. It's still chilly out, despite being late spring. I suppress a shiver and start running to warm myself up. It only takes about five minutes to drive to John's house, but walking/running will take much longer. I have a long walk ahead of me. Probably an hour. But I'll do anything to get away from the yelling tonight.

An hour or so later, I stop at the Laurens' door. It's late at night, I'm really not sure if anyone will be up. I see a candle flickering in a window, however, and decide to knock. A minute passes and I knock a little louder. A few seconds later, the door opens.

"Anastasia!" John's mother greets, sounding tired but no less happy to see me. I smile at her.

"Good evening, Eleanor," I say. She beckons me inside out of the chilly air, closing the door behind me.
"What are you doing out here so late, dear?" she asks, concerned. I frown and look at my boots.