Chapter 12

A man walks into a local bar and sits on a stool, very far away from the other noisy patrons.

"What can I get you sir?" the bartender asks.

"A glass of your strongest whiskey please," he murmurs.

"Coming right up,"

The man keeps looking beside and behind him before looking down again. He keeps his eyes low, which are irritated by contact lenses and his lack of sleep. His hair is bleached a bright blonde colour and hidden under a baseball cap, while his tired body rests under a cheap pair of sweatpants and a discarded Berkley sweater. He grips the side of the bar with such intensity, that one might think that he could break off a chunk of it.

Every sound seems to set him off, jumping or shifting uncomfortably in his seat, including the laughter of some drunken girls in the corner and the clinking of drinks across the way as several businessmen toast to something. He flinches when the bartender places the drink down in front of him. The man reaches into his back pocket and places a few dollar bills on the table. He begins to sip without even thanking the person who served him.

Once the golden-brown liquid had entered his system, the shady man feels much better. It improved his mood and took some of the relentless pain that plagued him away.

That damn girl… he was thinking to himself. She played me and won!

He grips the glass tightly before taking another long sip.

Now she's free and I'm on the run.

He'd been on the run for several weeks now. He'd been forced to take drastic measures to escape a fate worse than death. After the pregnant blonde woman vanished through those hospital doors, he knew the jig was up. He turned and sped walk out of the building. He got in his truck and drove away, as casually as he could. Once he'd reached the border of the town, he sped off as fast as the old piece of junk could go. He drove for many hours, far away. Eventually, he came to another town. He knew his face would be all over the news and so would his vehicle. He came across an old junkyard in the town. He parked the truck on the far side of the lot and then went looking for various tools he'd need to cover his tracks. Across the street from the junkyard was an auto shop. Much to his delight, there were cans of gas being sold inside. The place had been closed for the night, but this man didn't care. He smashed the window with a stray brick and stole as much gasoline as he could carry. He went back to the junkyard and doused the rusty truck in it. The thing was so old, he wasn't surprised that no one had tried to do this earlier. He soaks the thing, inside and out and then leaves a trail behind as he steps away from the coming inferno. Once he was far enough away, he took out a lighter and lit the trail. It didn't take long for the entire thing to go up in flames. He then threw the gas cans into some nearby bushes and took off running. He ran along some back fences of a small neighbourhood. In the distance, he heard sirens, likely trying to douse the blaze. He then goes to the nearest bus terminal. The place was closed for the night, so he slept on a bench outside the station.

When it finally opened in the morning, he used what money he had to buy a bus ticket. Anywhere that was far away from his crimes. He kept the hood of his coat up and his eyes down in hopes that the woman at the ticket counter would not recognize him. He tried to appear casual but the woman didn't say or do anything. She likely assumed that he was a drifter or a homeless person, looking for his first ticket out of town

When the bus showed up, he sat in the back and rode until the very last stop. Right back in Boston. Why? He wasn't sure, maybe he wanted to go back to what was familiar. Maybe he hoped that his wife would take him back. He knew the blonde one lived in this city and maybe… just maybe, by pure coincidence, he'd find her again and gain what was rightfully his.

He realized that he had no money of any kind so when a woman left her purse to go to the bathroom in a café, he stole it. He only took the money and then went to a drug store. He bought hair dye and other things he'd need to become disguised. He then went to a costume store and purchased some colour contacts to disguise his eyes. They may have changed the colour, but nothing could truly hide the darkness and unfeeling behind them. In a gas station bathroom, he became an entirely new person. He then found a job and worked enough to get a small apartment on the shadier side of town. A place frequented by local gangs and prostitutes. It was cheap and he accepted that. He spent money on alcohol and cigarettes, eating out a lot and basically keeping to himself. He'd walk around the city and still kept his eyes open, just in case he saw her again.

The man finishes his glass off and asks for another. He thinks about how close he'd been to finally be having that third child… the one he wanted to raise as his own, but now, with her gone, that disappeared. He fell for her little trick, playing on his weakness for the unborn child and she'd gotten away, slipped through his fingers and back to society. Now, she was home and he was on the run, far away from the life he once had. He downs the entire glass in one go to shake the memory from his mind.

That baby is mine, he thought. I worked so hard to get it. I earned the right to see my child, no matter what the mother might think. I am that child's father and it belongs to me!

Therefore, whenever he saw a blonde woman, he discreetly pursued her for awhile, to see if she was pregnant or had green eyes. He'd encountered one almost matching the description earlier in the day at a local park, but the woman became wise to the fact that she was being followed and ran. She disappeared in the streets and the man had given up pursuit when she went into a public place. He couldn't risk being caught and thrown in jail. For a split second, he thought I might've been her, but the odds were against it. She did look pregnant, but he figured she was just another woman. He knew he couldn't go to jail, he'd never survive and he would never meet his child.

Despite what he'd done to obtain paternity, he still wanted the baby. It could be like that Raising Arizona movie, traveling all the time, living in a trailer with his little son or daughter. It wouldn't be ideal, but it would be better than his crappy life now. Maybe move out of state and find another woman, reel her sympathies in with the child.

The fantasy seemed far-fetched, but it still could happen, if he could find her.

After his last glass of whiskey, the man leaves and pulls his hood up before stepping into the night air. His thick heavy boots give a distinct crunch as he disappears into the night.

He's back! And he ain't going anywhere. At least we know what happened to him after that fateful day at the hospital. Please follow and review.