Pregnant For My Bully

Jason Davenport

The only time I’d ever left Wayne’s county was during the holidays, on trips with Dad and mom. Now I was all alone in a strange town. I’d been spending nights cooped up in dark alleys and abandoned cars, still unsuccessful at finding a job.

Close to death, I’d scavenged through a trash can behind a small restaurants to pick out leftovers for myself.

Today I couldn’t find any abandoned cars to sleep in so I was squeezed in an alley, hands deep in the pockets of my hoodie.

I shivered, the cold chilling my bones. Trying to think happy thoughts I finally managed to doze off.

I woke up to someone shaking me roughly. Instinctively, I backed pushed the figure away, getting prepared to run for my life. These leftovers were my last. I didn’t need anyone trying to steal it from me.

“Hey, hey, calm down boy. I’m not here to hurt you,” The figure spoke reassuringly, raising both hands as if in surrender. “I was just passing through.”

I squinted, seeing that it was daylight already. The figure was a shabby looking old man. He looked harmless so I relaxed a little. But I was still suspicious.

“Holy smokes,” He exclaimed, peering more closely at me. “You’re just a kid. What on earth are you doing sleeping on the streets?” He frowned.

I backed away, lowering my head. The last thing I needed was someone getting me into trouble.

I looked up at the old man. For the most part he looked concerned. Maybe he could help me. I contemplated on whether to tell him about my situation.

Taking a deep breath, I muttered, “I was kicked out. I did something terrible and I was kicked out. I’ve got nowhere to go now and I’ve been trying to get a job,” I finished, my eyes glued to the floor.

I didn’t want to see the judgement in his eyes.

After a few moments the old man cleared his throat. “I’m not gonna ask you what you did. You woulda told me if you wanted to. So I won’t ask.”

I offered him a grateful look.

“It’s unlikely you’ll get yourself a job ’round here though, looking like that,” He gestured to my clothes.

He scratched his head, thinking.

“Well, I got a small farm a few blocks away and I’ve been searching for someone to help around with some work. I’m getting old ya see?”

I gulped. A farmhand?

“So if you’re interested, you come right on with me. If not, then goodluck in your search. But let me warn you though, the pay isn’t worth shit. But it’s all I can afford.”

I thought fast and hard.

I’d never worked on a farm before. I wasn’t sure I was cut out for that. But I had no choice now. Taking a chance, I asked. “How much is the pay?”

“Two dollars.” He replied simply.

I frowned deeply. Two dollars per hour was almost no pay at all.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“A week,” He added.

“What?!” I nearly staggered to the floor. “Two dollars per week?!”

“Yep.”

I glared at him, hoping he was pulling my legs. But he looked pretty set on. My hope began to deflate. I wouldn’t be able to save up enough to get the cot before Amelia was due.

“Hurry up and make your decision, boy. I haven’t got all day.”

I tried again. “Five dollars. Sir.”

The farmer gave loud guffaw. “If I could afford to pay you that much I wouldn’t be here. Still on two dollars, son. And right now, you need me more than I need you so…”

Nodding and quickly bending to grab my leftovers, I wiped a stray tear and followed quickly behind him.