AFTER YOU SAVED ME // ZESSA

Chapter 17: Hey You

"So, Steph can't make it?" Anna asks, rummaging through the girl's newborn clothes, making an obvious stink face at the number of frills on all the dresses.

"No, she is having car trouble – again," I answer, examining a lime green onesie that is perfect for either a girl or a boy, so I throw two in the cart.

We have only been shopping for about 30 minutes and already my feet are starting to ache. Work flew by, thanks to Todd's almost daily delivery of donuts keeping me alive. Even since he found out I was pregnant he has been more than generous with those delicious pastries. He really is a great boss.

"That girl needs a new car," Anna replies, skimming over the clothes, then crouching down to pick up something. "What do you think of these?" she asks, holding up a bathing suit with several smiling little ducks on the tummy area.

"The babies are due in December, I don't think they will be doing much swimming Anna," I answer, growing even more bored by the second.

"Well obviously, that's why this is a size 6M," she says blatantly.

I feel my forehead wrinkle in confusion as I try to figure out what a 6M means.

"6 months, Tessa. It is for a 6-month-old, you know, the age your babies will be in the summer," she explains, looking at me like it's the most obvious answer any normal 19 year old would know.

"Wow, you really haven't been getting ready for these kids, huh?" Anna asks, setting down the bathing suit and coming to my side.

"You know my stance on this situation," I say, feeling frustrated. Setting down the baby blanket in my hands, I turn to Anna. "Listen, I am trying. I just... cannot get into this whole 'being a Mom' thing given the circumstances," I admit, feeling the familiar pang of guilt for not being over the moon about the "little miracles" growing inside me.

"I understand. How about we ring up the things we have and go get a bite to eat. I am sure your feet are killing you by now anyways," she says knowingly, staring down at my swollen ankles.

"You know me too well," I nod, as we make our way to the register.

"So, what are you in the mood for?" Anna asks, handing over the pile of baby clothes, pacifiers, and blankets. I told her I only wanted to buy small things, in case I did not keep the babies and could put them up for adoption with a few items of their own.

"Well, at the moment some ice cream and pickles topped with potato chips sounds amazing," I blurt out, my mouth practically salivating.

"Umm, I think we can arrange that," she laughs, her eyebrows creasing together skeptically as she hands the cashier some cash.

"Anna, I said I was going to pay," I say crossing my arms as the cashier hands Anna her change.

"And I said over my dead body," she smiles back, grabbing the two bags and turning to leave.

"I'm buying lunch then," I demand, following her out.

"Not a chance!" she says over her shoulder.

The food court is buzzing today, with people young and old, all eager to indulge in some fried mall food. It is only a short walk from the baby store so I am thankful when we find an open booth.

"That hotdog place sells vanilla ice cream cones, so I am guessing they can get your ice cream, pickle, potato chip concoction together," Anna says, pointing to the Doug's Dog's in the corner of the food court. "You stay here and rest your feet. I'll be back," she smiles, walking away before I can hand her my credit card.

Huffing at her blatant disregard for my wanting to pay, I decide to sit back and enjoy the comforts of the mall booths. Not only are my ankles throbbing, but my back is starting to ache at all the standing as well. Perhaps Dr. Weaver is onto something with the whole bedrest thing after all.

Looking around the food court, I see several young teenagers, no older than 15 maybe, awkwardly flirting with each other over Starbucks drinks that are almost all sugar. Ah, I remember that age.

Across the way, I see a group of old grandma's walking past the shops, probably mall walking as some daily exercise. Old people love mall walking.

Then, just a few booths from me, I see something I had never planned on seeing again. A person.

Dan.

I blink rapidly, trying to convince my mind of what my eyes are seeing. It is only his profile, but I am sure it is him.

I swallow hard as my breathing increases. I need to get out of here. I do not think he has seen me, and I do not want to find out what will happen if he does. Does he even know I am pregnant?

Rising too quickly from the table, my large stomach pushes it nearly two feet out, causing a loud, screeching sound as its legs scrape against the tiled floor.

My hands tremble as I grab my purse and make my way out of the booth, not wanting to make any eye contact with Dan. I am sure I look strange to the people nearby who heard me almost knock over an entire table, but they do not realize how desperately I need to leave.

Finally, free from the confines of the food court, I walk as fast as I can towards the nearest store to hide.

Quickly walking into a large department store, I nearly run over the door greeter, who isn't too happy with how I just walked away instead of saying excuse me or sorry.

"Crazy pregnant women," he mutters under his breath as I walk fast towards the men's department.

I have not even looked behind me, too scared at the possibility that Dan could be there, following my every move. Stalking me the way he did at that party, or the night he blew up my car and killed my best friend.

After reaching the fitting rooms in the very corner of the store, I duck inside the handicap stall, locking the door behind me as I sit down on the bench, exhausted. I am nearly out of breath and my ankles are screaming at me for walking so fast and far.

Catching my breath, I close my eyes and try to think rationally.

Tessa, why would Dan even bother with you? It is not like he would want anything to do with a baby – two at that. He is too busy being some big drug lord or raping poor girls at parties.

I try to convince myself I am safe, that I am overreacting by hiding in a men's changing room, but something still doesn't feel right...

Ugh. And I ditched Anna.

Frustrated with myself, I reach for my phone in my purse to text her, but it isn't there. Frantically feeling around for it, I feel nothing but my wallet, prenatal vitamins, keys, and other random junk that is definitely not my phone.

I must have left it on the table, or dropped it when I was getting away from Dan...

How could I be so stupid? Those 15-year-olds probably stole it by now, I think to myself as I get up to leave the changing room.

However, after opening the door, I am met with a smiling, sinister face.

"Hey you," Dan says coolly, before slamming a piece of cloth to my mouth, muffling my scream as everything goes black.