Trouble in -not paradise

Jared's POV

If that was all it took, I was willing to work my way around it somehow. Sophia was going to hate me; a lot; but she was going to have to forgive me. This was probably going to be my only chance at fatherhood and I didn't mind given this girl the sky for it.

She was deranged! Mental if I must say. I had no idea why she wanted this; what she planned on gaining from it, but I was ready to sacrifice the necessary for the child she was carrying; my child.

Prior to that, Dr. Seuss had drawn to my notice that she was mentally distraught, a little unstable and all she needed was care. I was ready to bare that cross for my child. I would bare that for the next seven months till my child was born.

There was so much already going through my mind but nothing could overcome the joy I felt knowing I was finally going to be a father of my own child.

I had plans for the girl; Maraïda too. I had plans to booth her to as far as I possibly could, as far away from my child and my family and to never have to see her again.

In my defense, she wanted to kill the child.

Truth be told, ever since that night, I haven't been able lay properly in bed without hearing those sounds; her moans like those of pleasure; her pleas for something more and something like a cry for help. Her voices haunted me for so long. I couldnt tell why? Maybe because that night, I was intoxicated by alcohol and it prevented from recovering my full actions that night. It would appear to as nightmares. I would jolt out of my slumber some nights, drench in my own sweat, feeling like I'd been out of a chase. 

No!

It wasn't a chase.

I would see her in my dreams coming back to me for more. On one hand she would be crying for more and on the other hand, I would see my wife, crying to and turning away from me. Naturally, I would want to go to my wife but I'll find myself chained to the girl as Sophia would drift further and further from me.

I was drunk that night, but I knew what I was doing. Only back then I thought she was an experienced whore with nothing to loose or sacrifice; she fitted the description of my woman and that alone was enough for me.

I could only make out the innocent on her face, the agony in her words and adolescence in her age the following morning. It broke my heart to see she couldn't have been more that eighteen or nineteen.

She must have gotten herself on some shitty mess to have had to do that for some cash.

I thought I could just be nice and charitable to leave her some excess cash on the bed post that morning to help her get herself off that kind of living. I felt sorry for her.

When I ran into her again two days ago in the streets of Manhattan, I realised, apparently, I hadn't taken quite a good look at her that night; nor did I the following morning. But there, at that time, her bright blue eyes were just deep empty pools of misery, frustration and helplessness. I remembered looking at her lifeless looking body that morning and thinking she could have been eighteen or nineteen, but at that moment I started wondering how I'd look in an orange overall, serving jail time for violating an underage teenager. She looked like she couldn't have been more than seventeen or even sixteen. She was so small and frail, she looked like a fragile little egg that would break if touched. My heart ached. I felt more regret than I had ever felt in my entire life.

I was very relieved when I got to learn she'd been eighteen for the past five months. I still felt filthy and really sick for what transpired between us that night, but still a very important piece of me was overjoyed; I was going to have a kid. Although I had no understanding of why she wanted to live in my house with me.

As I drove a Porsche Cayenne into the enormous gates of my very own mansion, these gates which whenever I saw, I thought of paradise, with the woman I loved waiting for me inside; with a banquet on our table, stories of how our days went, hours of cuddling under a fluffy duvet blanket, stolen kisses, sweet sweet nights and days of making love. Now all I saw was trouble; trouble in my not so paradise anymore.

Like expected, blue eyes waited for me at the front porch.

Maybe I shouldn't have confessed to her on phone before actually getting home. Now for sure she was going to kill me or worse, leave me. But something quickly grabbed my attention. She had no bags. She wasn't leaving. She couldn't leave me. I made a silent 'thank you heavens' prayer. I wasn't a believer, but if this turned out fine, I sure as hell was going to be.

"Sophia!" I called out to her with sympathetic eyes, but her stoic expression told me cajoling her wasn't going to help me.

"Please just tell me in the name of everything holy that this is all by my fault and let's- we'll just shrug it off and move on. Tell I'm the one who did something wrong and got us into this mess." she said teary eyed as we walked into the building. Fatima the head maid was vacuuming the living room from across and the noise from the machine wasn't very settling at all.

"What are you saying Sophia? Why are you saying this? Why are you blaming yourself for my mistake? Again Sophia!"

"I pushed you out that day! We fought and I threw out my frustrations on you. If I had been more understanding, maybe, maybe we wouldn't have gotten here. Jared! I'd feel so much better if I knew I caused this and not you cheating on me on your own free will!"

"Why can't it for once be by my fault? Sophia why can't I bare my own burdens? We can work out a solution together. Why can't we for once have a normal couples fight where you don't take all the blame for me getting a young girl pregnant? When cara? When will you stop throwing yourself under the bus for my mistakes and making me feel worse than you huh? Yes it was you who pushed me to leave home that day. But do you know why I left? I could have ignored and stayed but I didn't! I couldn't because I wanted to do something to hurt you! It was intentional Sophia; can't you be mad about that?" I yelled at her but she just stayed silent. Tears washing down the concealer she had used to cover the bags under her eyes from too much crying.

She had been crying. A lot. 

But seriously I was sick and tired. I wanted her to hit me, kick me, slap me and throw any insults she could at me; I had been bottling up some hardcore guilt for years now, guilt she could have just eased away but she always withheld that anger in because she felt I was out there making mistakes because I needed something she couldn't give me thus making it all her fault. It wasn't! It was mine! It was my mistake and i wanted to pay the price for it and drown inside the guilt. I had abandoned before. I had let her down and it was my fault; everything.

I was going to make her crack.

"Seriously? Nothing Sophia? Won't at least shout at me? Get mad? Or hit me?" I asked her but she said nothing, "OK fine!"

I walked up to the bedroom. I was irritated! I wanted to break something; I wanted to say something to hurt her so much she'll flip over and react the next time I messed up. I went back downstairs not knowing what to do in the room. I found her seated at the dinning table, head held low. I wanted to feel sorry for her but rather I felt angry. I turned around to go out again but stopped and turned back to her, "By the way, her name is Maraïda and she'll be coming to live here with us."