Bonds

Sally Blofis, Short Change Hero

Sally Jackson had no idea where she was, or how long she had walked to get to... wherever she was. All she knew was that she was eighteen, homeless, had no living family, and to top it all off: pregnant.

"Fuck me," she sniffled, dropping to the ground on the deserted street. She didn't care that she was sitting in a pile of trash, because as far as she was concerned that was where she belonged. "Fuck me," she repeated, her sniffling turning to sobbing.

She could handle the first three and had been handling them rather well in her own opinion. There was a woman's shelter she had been staying at while she looked for a job, she had an interview at a diner to be a waitress, and honestly after taking care of her uncle she didn't think she wanted a family again.

But all that changed when that little piece of plastic showed a '+'.

The shelter had strict rules and guidelines, and being pregnant was something they didn't tolerate. She knew she could hide it for a few months, but she wasn't going to make enough money to afford an apartment (no matter how sleazy) by then. Not that it mattered now, as she had missed her interview while she had walked around in a shocked stupor. And now with no immediate job prospects combined with the idea of being out on the streets if she didn't find another, friendlier shelter soon, she wanted nothing more than for her parents to come and save her.

Sally hugged her knees to her chest as the tears began to flow freely; the salty liquid feeling warm compared to the crisp, early December air. "I don't want this," she choked. "I don't want to be a mother!"

This wasn't what her life was supposed to be. She had been an honors student from third grade on, volunteered on the weekends, and donated blood nearly every month. That made her a good person, right? So why did her parents have to die? Why did her uncle have to get sick and require her to drop out of school to care for him? Why did her family home get repossessed to pay off the medical bills, leaving her with nothing? Why was she stupid enough to go on a trip to Montauk with a man she barely knew? Why did she agree to meet him again?

Sally buried her head against her knees and let out a scream that echoed down the street. "What the fuck am I going to do?!"

She had no idea how to raise a child, let alone afford it, and that was assuming she lived long enough to give birth. If she was better off and things were different, she could put the child up for adoption, where it could be given to a home that would love and want it.

"But I just had to get fucked by a god!" she wailed, making the only other person on the street stop and stare before continuing on their way.

And there in lied yet another problem: the father.

She wasn't an idiot, well at least on important matters. She had been on the pill with Poseidon and had taken additional precautions the morning after, which was part of the reason why the pregnancy so was shocking. It likely had something to do with him being a god, but the why wasn't important. What was important was the brief one-sided conversation they had before he left, the vague threats about what would happen to anyone that hurt a child of his. She had thought what he said was strange at the time, but now it made complete sense: even if she could afford it, abortion was not an option. Any attempt to do so would only anger the god. A god who was known for his rage.

Sally cried harder as she became more and more aware of how bleak her situation looked. "FUUUUCK!"

"If you keep screaming that, someone might get the wrong idea..."

She looked up and wiped the tears from her eyes. Standing in front of her was a bearded man in probably his mid-fifties with an almost bored expression on his unshaven face. He had a small, curly, brown and gray afro and a hooked nose, that clashed against his black leather coat, faded concert tee, holey jeans, and cowboy boots. "Like I care," she sniffled. "Like it matters what other people think about me..."