Not Far From the Vine
by Scrat with a G
Prologue
Raindrops pounded on the window and soaked through the ceiling. Pots and pans were scattered around the small house, catching the rainwater. A man and a woman stood near the door.
"You can't leave," he pleaded.
"Yes, I can, and that's exactly what I'm going to do," she replied coldly. She sneered at him, him and the little bundle he was holding in his arms.
"Please," he begged. His eyes filled with tears of pain. Hers were filled with nothing, nothing but evil and hate.
She smirked, turning away and heading for the door.
"How am I supposed to take care of the baby?" he asked. "I know nothing about caring for a child; I can't support a six-month-old baby all by myself…"
"I don't care," she snapped. "It's not my problem anymore."
"Yes, it is!" he cried. "She's your daughter, I'm your husband…"
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It means plenty," the man replied, shaking. He looked down at the sleeping form in his arms. "What happened to maternal instinct?"
"I guess I lucked out."
"Lucked out," he repeated, his teeth clenching. "But-"
"Are you finished?" she demanded, interrupting. She gazed uninterestedly at her fingernails.
"I loved you," he said in a low whisper, clutching the little child in his arms.
"I loved you, too. But I was sixteen and stupid," she added.
"Fine," he whispered through tears, which were now streaming freely down his cheeks. "Go, then."
She smirked. "Finally…" She rolled her eyes, and, as lightning flashed, she was out the door and free.
He stood in the center of the room, trying to soothe his daughter, who had begun to cry, while attempting to comfort himself at the same time. Rain poured onto the roof and dripped down the windows, making that night even more depressing than it already had been.