2.Chapter 2 Against The World
Melissa stared down at Jack’s lifeless body sprawled on the floor. Blood had already seeped to the tips of her shoes, cold and sticky, clinging like guilt itself.
Her knees gave out, and she crumpled onto the floor, her hands trembling uncontrollably. “Shit… I killed him. I fucking killed him…”
Melissa, pale as death, clutched at a stray piece of clothing to cover herself, her fingers fumbling like they didn’t belong to her anymore. With a ragged breath, she stumbled to her feet, her legs shaky and unsteady.
All she could do was run—out of the house, out of the nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.
By the time she reached the bridge, her body was moving, but her mind felt like it wasn’t even there anymore. Everything around her was a blur, muted and distant, like she was trapped in someone else’s bad dream.
Blood. His face. That awful, sickening finality. She knew it was only a matter of time. The cops were probably already out there, scouring the city, sirens blaring, her name crackling over their radios.
They’d catch her. Drag her into some courtroom where strangers would dissect her life, argue over whether she was a monster or just desperate.
Her eyes drifted to the river below. The water churned and rolled like it was waiting for her, dark and restless. One step. That’s all it would take. ‘One step, and it’s all over,’ she thought.
The guilt. The fear. The shame. The suffocating weight of it all. It would disappear the second she sank into the cold depths.
She climbed over the railing, her bare feet gripping the slick metal. Rain was starting to fall now, icy droplets running down her face and soaking her to the bone.
Until she heard it. A sound, faint and almost lost in the wind, but unmistakable. A cry.
Melissa’s eyes snapped open. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined it. But then it came again—soft, pitiful, barely audible through the pounding rain.
She turned her head, scanning the bridge. And there it was. A small bundle, not far away, lying forgotten and abandoned in the shadows. It was a baby.
“Waa… waa…” The cry was weak, fragile, like it barely had the strength to keep going.
Melissa let out a sharp, bitter laugh. ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘What the hell are you crying about? No one’s coming for you, kid. Just like no one’s coming for me.’
But the sound of the baby’s cries clawed at her, refusing to let go.
She tried to turn back toward the river, to focus on the plan she’d already made. But that tiny, helpless sound stuck to her like a curse. It wound itself around her chest, digging into places she didn’t want to feel.
The rain came harder now, pouring in thick sheets, but the baby’s cries grew fainter, as though it didn’t have much left. Melissa gritted her teeth, her hands clutching the railing until her knuckles turned white.
“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath. The curse slipped out like a prayer, desperate and raw. She let out a shaky sigh, then swung her legs back over the railing. Her body felt heavy as lead as she staggered toward the tiny bundle.
When she reached it, she dropped to her knees, her heart pounding against her ribs. The baby was so small, wrapped in a damp, dirty blanket, its face pale and cold. It wasn’t crying anymore—just making soft, fragile noises, like it didn’t have the strength to do anything else.
Melissa hesitated, her hands shaking, before finally reaching out. She pulled the baby into her arms, holding it close. Tentatively, she pressed her finger to its lips, and the baby latched on, sucking weakly.
“You poor little thing,” she murmured, her voice cracking. Tears welled up in her eyes, mixing with the rain streaming down her face. “Thrown out like trash, huh? Just like me.”
The baby let go of her finger, its cries starting up again—sharp and desperate, cutting through the rain like a knife. Melissa’s heart twisted painfully.
“You’re hungry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I know, I know… I’ll figure something out. Just don’t give up, okay? Don’t give up on me.”
The baby’s cries softened a little, but its tiny body was still trembling, fragile and helpless in her arms. Melissa cradled it closer, pressing her cheek to its cold, damp forehead.
“We’re both screwed, aren’t we?” she muttered bitterly, her lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “Left behind. Forgotten.”
‘Alright,’ she thought, standing on shaky legs. ‘Guess we’re in this together now. You and me against the world, huh? Let’s see if we can make it out of this mess.’
*****
Three years later, in a sleepy little town in Lachlan, life trudged along quietly, tucked into the cracks of an old street.
In a shabby house, another chapter of a small, complicated life unfolded.
Melissa, wearing a slightly worn apron, leaned against the window frame. Her tone was firm but still gentle as she called down to the rowdy kids tearing up the yard below. “Curtis! Dinner’s on the table—get your little butt inside!”
Covered in dirt from head to toe, Curtis Bush looked like he’d just climbed out of a mud pit. His toy gun clutched tightly in one hand, he didn’t bother looking up. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you!” he shouted, too caught up in his pretend war to care.
Melissa exhaled, shaking her head as she turned back into the kitchen. The plates clattered softly as she arranged them on the table. When the doorway stayed empty, her patience hit its limit.
She stormed out onto the balcony, her voice sharp enough to cut through the racket outside. “Curtis Bush, I said now! Move it!”
The instant she used his full name, every kid in the yard froze. Full-name warnings from a mom meant only one thing: you were about two seconds away from real trouble.
Curtis let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said to his friends, sounding like a middle-aged man with too much on his plate. “I’ll eat fast and be back before you even notice I’m gone.”
That cracked the older boys up. They were doubled over, laughing so hard they could barely breathe. “Curtis is such a little mama’s boy!” one of them howled. “His mom calls, and he comes running like a scared little puppy!”
“Yeah, other kids are scared of their dads, but Curtis? He’s terrified of his mom!”
“And he doesn’t even have a dad!” another chimed in, his voice dripping with mockery.
That hit different. Curtis, halfway to the stairs with a grin on his face, froze mid-step. His smile vanished, replaced by a look that was way too serious for a three-year-old. Slowly, he turned around, his small frame tense like a coiled spring.
“Shut the hell up!” he yelled, gripping his toy gun so tight his knuckles turned white. “Don’t you dare talk about my mom like that!”
The biggest boy in the group crossed his arms, smirking. He was older, taller, and clearly used to being the boss. “Or what? Everyone knows your dad ditched you. He’s never shown up—not once.”
Another boy snickered, piling on. “Yeah, and what about that creepy guy down the street? Didn’t he say he’d marry your mom? Maybe you should start calling him daddy.”
Curtis might’ve been little, but he wasn’t stupid. He could hear the venom behind their words. This wasn’t teasing—it was mean, deliberate, and aimed straight at his heart. His face turned bright red, his whole body shaking with anger.
“You call him daddy! You and your whole family can call him daddy!” Curtis snapped, his voice cracking.
That just made them laugh harder. “Why would we? We already have dads,” one of them shot back, his tone cruel. “You’re the one who doesn’t. We were being nice, and now you’re acting like a little brat. Maybe your mom does like the lame guy down the street. Maybe she’s just waiting to say yes!”
Before Curtis could respond, a new voice cut through the laughter—cold and sharp, like the crack of a whip. “And what exactly makes you little assholes think you’re so special? A bunch of nasty brats with no manners, running your mouths like you own the place. Pathetic.”
The boys whipped around to see Melissa standing at the top of the stairs, her face like thunder. In one hand, she gripped a broom, and she didn’t hesitate.
She charged down into the yard, swinging it like she was clearing out pests. The boys scattered, tripping over their own feet as they bolted.
Once the yard was clear, Melissa scooped Curtis up in her arms. But even as she stepped inside, the sound of gossip drifted through the thin walls of the neighborhood.
“She’s got some damn nerve, acting all high and mighty,” someone muttered loud enough to be heard. “Everyone knows she doesn’t even know who the kid’s dad is. Bringing their mess here like it’s not a disgrace.”
Melissa’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. But her grip on Curtis didn’t falter, and her pace didn’t slow. She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
Back inside, she set Curtis down, finally noticing the way his lip was trembling and his little hands were clenched into fists. He wasn’t crying, but his face was pale, and his big eyes glistened with unshed tears.
She knelt in front of him, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice steady even though her heart was breaking. “my little guy, no tears, okay? We didn’t do anything wrong. You hear me? Nothing. So don’t you cry.”
Curtis hiccupped through his sobs, his little shoulders trembling. “Mom…I just… I wish Dad was still here…” His voice broke as he dissolved into hiccupping sobs.
The words hit her like a freight train. Melissa fought to keep the sharp sting of pain off her face. She’d worked so hard to keep Curtis from thinking about the man she was so desperate to forget.
It had been years since she’d grabbed her baby and run, fleeing to Lachlan, the middle of nowhere, to escape a life she could never go back to.
She’d spun a careful story, telling Curtis that his dad was a truck driver who’d died in an accident shortly after they were married. A clean, simple lie to keep him from asking questions that could lead to answers too dangerous to speak out loud.
Melissa hugged him closer, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “Baby, your daddy’s watching over us from heaven. He loves you so much, Curtis, and he wouldn’t want to see you sad like this. Okay?”
Curtis sniffled and nodded, his wide, tear-filled eyes searching hers. “I don’t want Daddy to be sad…”
Her heart twisted again, but before she could say more, a car horn cut through the heavy quiet outside.
Normally, Curtis would’ve been off her lap in a flash, rushing to the balcony to see what kind of car it was. He was obsessed with cars—he could pick out makes and models just from the sound of an engine.
But today, he stayed put, burrowing deeper into her arms.
Melissa forced a smile and kissed the top of his head. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go see what’s out there, huh? Maybe it’s something cool.”
She stood and carried him to the balcony. Her eyes instantly locked on two sleek black sedans sitting in her dusty front yard.
Her stomach sank when she caught sight of the license plates—Chassis. A city miles away, too far for this to be a casual visit.
Her mind started racing. She hadn’t seen a car from Chassis in years. Memories she’d buried long ago surged to the surface: the blood pooling on the floor, her stepfather’s cold, lifeless body.
‘Why now? Why here? Have they finally caught up with me?’ she thought in a picnic.
Melissa’s grip on Curtis tightened as dread washed over her. Back then, she’d had nothing to lose, no one to protect but herself.
But now, everything was different. She had Curtis. The thought of leaving him behind, of him facing this cruel world without her, was unbearable.
Her instinct screamed at her to retreat, to grab her boy and run again, but before she could so much as step back, the rear door of one of the sedans creaked open.
And out stepped a man. Melissa froze.
The summer heat shimmered around him, but he looked utterly untouched by it, his crisp, tailored suit clinging to his broad shoulders and lean frame like it was made for him.
His every movement was smooth, deliberate, exuding an effortless confidence that couldn’t be faked. He wasn’t just handsome; he was devastating.
He paused to adjust his cuffs with a deliberate, practiced ease before lifting his head. His eyes swept across the balcony. And then his gaze locked on her.
Melissa felt her breath hitch. His eyes were cold and unnervingly sharp, like he could see right through her.
