He grabs me from behind, putting one gloved hand over my mouth, drowning my scream. What the frick? I quickly look, but can’t see Mel because of the open bonnet. However, someone dressed in all black, head covered with a black balaclava, stands at her door, a gun pointing straight at where she must be. My eyes grow large. I struggle to get loose, but it’s no use. The door of the van slides open and some more people get out. -I freeze in shock and can just watch. What do they want from us? Maybe they want Mel’s car.
The person on Mel’s side leans over the door and pulls a silent Mel out of the car, holding her from behind, the same as I’m being held. He sticks the front of his gun to her temple. Another masked person takes her phone from her hands and smashes it onto the ground, stepping on it as if to make sure it’s truly broken.
“What do you want?” Mel asks cold and calmly, her eyes sparkling in the dim light as if they’re burning blue flames. I can see she’s desperately trying to fight her fear of guns. She told me about her phobia … something she retained from her abduction.
“This is a robbery, we want the car,” one of the black figures says, the voice that of a woman. My heart suddenly seems as if it’s gonna beat itself right out of my chest. I can’t seem to move. Mel just went ghost-white. Her eyes find mine and I can see the fear inside them.
“She doesn’t look very pregnant … are you sure about this?” the one guy holding Mel asks, his covered head turned towards the woman.
I look at Mel’s tummy. She’s around 19 weeks and although she has a small bump, it’s barely noticeable because of two facts … her full chest and the extra loose shirts she wears these days to hide it.
“Are you retarded or something?” the woman says in a chill voice, “This is a R. O. B. B. E. R. Y!” She almost spells out the last word while glaring at the man with angry eyes, the only thing visible through her balaclava.
The man snorts, “I’m just saying.”
“Just do what you’re paid to do, and keep your mouth shut,” the woman is even icier now and I frown in confusion. I look at Mel and she seems just as lost as I am. Why would robbers worry if Mel is pregnant or not? Something strange is going on.
“Should we push a coat hanger into her?” the dude now standing in front of me asks. For what? A coat hanger? And then the realization hits me. They want to do a backstreet abortion. But why is he looking at me that way? I’m not the one that’s pregnant … OH NO!
The newspapers … they think I’m pregnant. And for some reason, they want to kill the baby! Fuck. Wait … maybe it’s an OH YES instead … they think I am pregnant … ME! That’s great!
“Are you stupid? Just hit her in the stomach a few times. And slap that one around a bit too.” Thank goodness for that … I’m not going to be raped by a piece of wire, at least.
I look at Mel. She also figured it out. Duh. She’s a Blackburn … they figure things out in their sleep. We communicate with our eyes and I truly hope that we’re on the same sandwich … that she understands what I’m trying to silently tell her. And that is to shut the fuck up!
I can see she’s torn between wanting to protect me and wanting to protect her baby. But for me there is no choice … we have to save this baby, no matter what. I watch her open her mouth. Then she screams as loud as she can. The man hits her with the gun against her temple and puts his hand over her mouth. Fuck. Mel struggles to get free and I realize they’re going to hit her again.
“NO!” I yell out giving Mel a stern stare, “don’t hurt my baby, please!” My eyes plead with her. She gets the message and stops, but I can see she’s not happy. A tear rolls down her cheek.
The woman starts laughing. I don’t think I’ll forget that laugh soon. She hits me in the stomach. Mel’s teary eyes look broken.
“Okay, get rid of it,” the woman says and climbs back into the van. So much for being subtle. But I guess the beans have been spilled … pun not intended.
One man starts hitting me in the stomach, while the one behind me holds me still. The pain is rather severe, worse than I imagined. I take three hits before I scream and fall down with all my weight, pulling the man holding me forward. He lets go and I drop to the ground and curl into the fetal position. I don’t need to act much, because I’m really in pain. I try to think how someone having a miscarriage would perform. I groan and scream and cry (the tears are not an act … it frickin really hurts) and curl around on the ground while holding my stomach.
“What have you done?” I then yell and look up with my tear-filled face. “You killed my baby!”
The woman kicks me with a red stiletto in my stomach and just laughs again. That laugh … those Prada heels … I won’t forget it soon.
“Let me go!” Mel shouts. The person holding her hits her again with the gun before letting her go and she rushes over to me as soon as she’s free.
“Enough! Just take the damn car,” she grits through her teeth while crouching next to me, taking me into her arms. Her cheek is swollen and there’s blood in the corner of her mouth.
“Mel, I think I’m bleeding!” I act some more. “We need to go to the hospital!”
“And that’s that then,” the woman says from the back of the van. She dials someone, saying “It’s done!” Only that.
“Let’s go fellas! Take the car,” she orders and slides the van door close.
Mel and I watch as they drive away and then I sit up straight.
“Fuck, Aria, are you alright?” Mel whispers through her tears. “I’m so so sorry.”
“Mel, it’s not your fault. And I’m going to be fine. And the most important thing is your baby is going to be fine. We were lucky this time.” Mel sniffs and wipes her face with her sleeve, but the tears keep on rolling from her eyes.
“Mel, I’m really okay … just a little sore. They took the car!”
“And the ice cream,” she sobs. I’m starting to wonder if pregnancy makes you a little daft, ’cause instead of whining about an … oh I don’t know … three-hundred-and-something-thousand dollar car … she worries about a tub of ice cream.
“We need to call … ” she turns her head in every direction as if crazily looking for something, and she stops when she spots her broken phone on the tar.
“Fuck! They broke my phone,” she starts crying again. I’ve never heard her swear this much.
“Aria, your phone … give me your phone!” she yells, her hands moving frantically all over me, patting me to find my phone.
“Melaena Blackburn, CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” I shake her lightly and she stops. Her eyes huge; staring into mine. Not that I’m calm … but at this moment the pain drowns everything else.
“Okay, now focus bitch,” I say, this time more softly. She blinks a few times and then grabs my purse. She wipes her face determinedly.
“Come, I’m going to get ice cream while I phone my brother.” She finds my phone in my bag and starts dialing. “You find a place to sit down.” She gestures to a bench in front of the shop and helps me up.
“Ah, brother, we need you to come and get us. It’s an emergency,” I hear her say before she disappears into the shop. I wobble over to the wood bench while clutching my tummy and sit down with a sigh. Freaking hell it hurts. A shiver runs down my spine. If they had hit Mel like this she for sure would miscarry. Thank God. And for once I’m glad that there are paparazzi out there. Their mistaken news just saved a little bean’s life.
“Here,” Mel holds out a spoon and I glance at the four Magnum tubs in her hands, one Double Sea Salt Caramel, one Milk Chocolate Vanilla, one Milk Chocolate Hazelnut, and one Dark Chocolate Mint. Now I’m sure pregnancy kills your brain. Who the hell is gonna eat all this?
“Oh, and take this.” She hands me a knife. Now I’m truly confused as to why she bought two knives. She pulls a face.