Chapter 128 Death wish

Chapter 128 Death wish
Sparkle
I sat on the Motel bed, writhing in pain. James promised to get us out of here. He claims he will get us a designated driver or rent a car so we can get close to a town or something. But with all the sounds I’m hearing outside, I doubt that would be possible. The weather isn’t getting any better, and the authorities keep closing roads. The baby in my belly keeps giving me a hard time. I feel like it wants to pop out at any moment, and I’m tired.

James knocked on my door before walking in with his bags and a pair of winter boots in his hands. “It’s very windy outside,” he said. “I got you some boots and some winter clothes, but the clothes will be delivered soon so we can get moving.” 

“Do you think moving now is a good idea?” I inquired, hoping he would hear my inner thoughts and change his mind about leaving just like I have.

“Yes, the weather won’t get any better, and you’re already in pain; keeping you here is not safe. We need to get you out there and get you to a hospital.”

“Do you fear that I’m in labor or something?” He nodded to my question, and though I was appreciative of his thoughtfulness, I still didn’t want to leave yet; I had this slight uneasiness within me about leaving. I couldn’t yet place a finger on why I was feeling this way. Maybe it was the fear of my baby being born in the car or our car getting caught in the storm, which could lead to a tragic end.

“I also fear that I might give birth in the car, trapped in the storm outside, with no help at all. Don’t you think you should get a doctor to come here instead?” I suggested.

“That’s what I tried to do earlier, but it didn’t work out. Turns out the doctors around are pretty occupied and can’t make the trip.” He replied.

From the looks of things, he had exhausted every other option and had now settled on leaving. According to what I’ve been told since I lost my memory. This is the man I decided to get engaged to after my first divorce, and if I decided to get engaged to him, it could only mean that I trust his judgment, so why don’t I just let him do what’s good for us?

“Okay, sure. Whatever you say.” I replied. There was a little knock on the door before it burst open. The motel attendant stepped in with a package in hand.

“Oh, must be the winter coat,” James exclaimed with relief as he took it from the attendant and excused him. He ripped the clothes out of their package and handed them to me. “Get dressed; I will excuse you.”

He stepped out to allow me room to dress, and when I was done, he stepped back in to help me get up and leave the room. I felt so heavy. I thought I wouldn’t be able to move, but gently we got out of the room, and soon we were in the car. Despite the storm and seemingly bad weather, the atmosphere appeared very noisy, and it wasn’t from the wind; it sounded like sirens from different cars. I wondered if it was because of the storm, maybe they were rescue teams trying to get the attention of people trapped or trying to transport people who had been trapped.

James appeared lost as well; he would stick his head out every minute, trying to find out what was going on.
“Turn on the radio,” I instructed.
“Why?” He inquired.

“They might give us an idea of why all that is going on out there,” I explained.
“I don’t think they will be helpful.” He started to argue, but I slapped the radio on, “On the contrary, it will be very helpful.”

The speaker came alive, and for about 3 minutes, they went on and on about which roads had been blocked. Then they branched into the conflict happening in the Roux estates. The names sounded familiar; I think everyone in this country is aware of the Roux family. But that’s not the familiarity I was feeling; this familiarity felt so close to home.

“Ronald Roux has now declared himself the new owner and leader of the Roux estates following the overthrow of his nephew, Dalton Roux.” One of the newscasters was discussing with his co-host. 

Dalton? That name sounded familiar too. Who was he? An ex? The only name I’m able to recall at the moment is Damien, but Dalton feels like home. 

“What do you make of this? Do you think Dalton is still alive out there?” The host asked.

“Right now I don’t know how to respond to this question because we all heard about the death of Ronald and now he’s here again like he never left, so I feel Dalton can pull the same move.” The co-host replied.

“Dalton,” I echoed. “Why does this name hit so close to home?”
Without any answers, James switched off the radio and kept driving. I was angry and suspicious at the same time, so I switched it back on. “What did you do that for?” I yelled,

“That family is a mess; listening to all this mess isn’t healthy for your pregnancy,” he tried to lecture me, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“The child is about to be born in this messed-up world, so they might as well listen to all of it.” I ranted while trying to figure out which channel we were listening to. When I finally got it, James turned it off again. This time I wasn’t having any of his nonsense, so I fought back. James lost focus on the icy and slippery road, and this sent us straight for the sidewalk. By this time, there was nothing left to do but to crash into a pole to stop the car from moving. James turned the wheel so his side would take the major impact.

As we hit the pull, a part of my memory ignited, and I could remember what had happened until now. It was an accident. I was trying to get away from the raiders that had taken over the town. I was in the car with Dalton; he had even given me his shirt and his coat. Dalton is actually the father of my baby; no, my pup. How did I forget all of that? 

I slowly raised my head and stared at James with disdain that was impossible to hide. “You damn dirty liar.”

He slowly shook his head. “It's not what you think; Dalton sent me to you.”

“Dalton would never send you to me!” I screamed back.
“But he did; he was desperate, he was fighting a battle he couldn’t win, he knew my dad was an opponent he could never win against, so he asked me to protect and take care of you.”

I gasped. Did Dalton actually die? When? Where is he? No, this can’t be true. How am I going to live?