Chapter 2 - THE COLD RAIN OF BETRAYAL
Ten minutes later,
I was violently shoved out the heavy courthouse doors,
the metal handles cold against my palms.
I stepped into a freezing,
torrential winter downpour that seemed to have been waiting for me.
Soaked to the bone in a matter of seconds,
I shivered violently on the concrete steps.
I clutched my stomach,
trying to provide some warmth to my baby as the unforgiving cold seeped into my soul.
The rain was so heavy it blurred the world into shades of grey and black.
I looked at the one-hundred-dollar bill in my hand,
now damp and limp.
It was the price of my silence,
the price of my dignity,
and it wasn't even enough for a single night in a safe hotel.
Suddenly,
a sleek,
black Mercedes pulled up to the curb,
its engine purring like a satisfied cat.
The tinted window hummed down with a smooth,
mechanical hiss,
revealing Richard’s gloating face.
He looked warm,
he looked dry,
and he looked utterly monstrous.
He opened his mouth to deliver one final,
devastating insult,
his lips curling into a sneer.
I stood there,
the water streaming down my face like tears I refused to shed.
I saw the mistress in the passenger seat,
adjusting my mother's necklace.
She laughed,
pointing at my soaked dress,
mocking the life I was about to lose.
Richard leaned out further,
ready to spit his venom into the freezing air.
He wanted to see me break,
he wanted to see me crumble onto the wet pavement.
But the air suddenly changed,
vibrating with a low,
heavy frequency.
The sound of the rain was eclipsed by something far more powerful.
A deep,
mechanical roar began to echo from the street corner.
Richard's expression shifted from arrogance to confusion.
He looked toward the entrance of the plaza,
his brow furrowing.
I followed his gaze,
my breath hitching in my chest.
The darkness of the storm was being pierced by blinding,
white LED lights.
The ground began to shake beneath my feet,
not from thunder,
but from the weight of approaching power.
Richard's grip on his steering wheel tightened.
May you like
The final insult died in his throat,
replaced by a growing sense of unease.
