My sensual criminals
Pregnant by criminals

Since then, Melissa has been unable to look at me, and my father just carries on with his usual cruelty. The only act of mercy is Harrison pretending that my "outburst" never happened. He doesn't seem interested in punishing me, probably because I mean so little in the grand scheme of things.

As a result, I decide to stay put at the table. Let the insults take over. Eat dinner and enjoy the meal as best I can before retreating to the solitude of my room. Not that Melissa and Harrison care. We never talk to each other. We literally eat in silence, except when my dad decides to bring up something that happened at work or some random news article. Then my mother smiles like a zombie and I stare at my plate as I let the words go in one ear and out the other. It doesn't matter that we're strangers. In fact, strangers would be more polite to each other.

Tonight, unfortunately, my father has decided to talk about my future.

"Graduation, Ariana," Harrison barks from his side of the table, making me wince. He had been eating with a newspaper in his hand and I was beginning to harbor hope that we could have dinner without having to talk. "I got your cap and gown order form in the mail-did you know that the bigger your size, the more the gown costs?"

That's what private schools are like, I think. I sigh, dreading what comes next. I don't even want to look at it, because my normally curvaceous body has put on even more weight in the last three months, and that hasn't gone unnoticed. They assume I'm just stuffing myself and getting fatter, but I know the truth: I'm pregnant. I started suspecting a while ago, and I finally got up the nerve to go to the drugstore and buy a pregnancy test. I got home and almost didn't know what to do.

My fingers were shaking as I unwrapped the test - did one stripe mean I was pregnant or two stripes? The instructions on the box literally blurred before my eyes because I was so nervous and scared at the same time that tears welled up in my eyes. However, there was also a sense of calm because if I was pregnant, the baby had been conceived in love. I shared something real with my two lovers, and this baby was wanted.

With breath in my throat, I peed on the stick and then placed it on the counter to wait.

With breath in my throat, I peed on the stick and then placed it on the counter to wait. Tick. Tic. Tick. Tick.

The second hand on the clock seemed to slow down and every cell in my body was ready to explode. Slowly, blue streaks appeared and I grabbed the box again: two blue streaks meant I was pregnant.

I am expecting Jack and James' child.

A breath of gratitude and happiness swept through my body. It didn't matter that my parents were gone. I now had a direction for my life. This child was the memory of my lovers, and I prayed fervently for a child that looked like them, from the coal-black hair to the intense blue eyes. Hell, I didn't even need that. Maybe a girl with her smile would be enough to remind me of the men I loved.

But I haven't told anyone yet because no one knows about James and Jack. How would I explain it? Yes, I have had an illicit affair with two delinquents who broke into my room one night. In fact, I have fallen madly in love with them even though they wanted to rob my family.

In short, there is no way to explain the flood of emotions and feelings that consume my heart when I think of Jack and James. But it's not just about us anymore: it's about a baby, and I'm overflowing with joy, even if I'm not clear on the way forward.

Now, the clock is ticking and a shiver runs down my spine.

"I'm going to have to spend more money on your dress because you're an XL, Ariana," my father barks, his face red and his veins bursting. And all because you're too fat to fit into a normal prom gown," he roars.

I open my mouth to defend myself, but a sudden wave of nausea overcomes me and I slam my mouth shut. I've been throwing up in the mornings for the past few weeks, but it's never happened at night before. It must be a purely physical reaction to the disgusting things my father is saying to me, as my mother goes stiff as a board again.

"Answer me, Ariana," demands Harrison. "Don't just stand there gawking. I need you to admit to me, to my face, that you are aware that your fatness is costing me money."

Has he lost his mind? Harrison's cruelty has always been extreme, but this is so over the top it makes no sense. What's an extra fifteen dollars to him? But I can't even think to answer because the nausea takes hold of me again and I jump to my feet, covering my mouth.

"Sit down right now," my father bellows. But instead, I turn and run out of the room, only able to hold back the vomiting until I rush into the nearest bathroom. I have just enough time to close the door and open the toilet seat before I violently vomit, throwing up half of the dinner I just ate. Panting and sweating, I flush and wash my hands and face. As I look at my reflection in the small vanity mirror, I see that my face is red and blotchy from the vomit. In fact, I realize how much I look like my father in general.

We have the same brown eyes, the same curly brown hair, and the same overall look. My face is rounder, my lips fuller and my eyebrows softer. I know Harrison has always been prone to chubbiness and has beaten it out of him. "Defeated" is the right word, because all his life he has spent at least five days a week in the gym and watching every morsel that passes his lips. He won't accept any extra weight on his body, and maybe that's why he hates me so much. Because I didn't fight against my natural body shape like he did, but accepted being curvy as best I could, hoping that someone would love me for the way I am. It's ironic that his self-hatred has been directed at me for reasons beyond my control. But I've given up trying to understand Harrison. He is twisted and venomous and nothing I do can change him. Besides, I no longer expect him to ever show me love, especially after what I've been through with James and Jack. Criminals have shown what real love is, and how it is accepting and supportive, and not vitriolic and nasty.

Looking at my face in the mirror, I can see how much I look like Harrison, but now, I also see the ways in which I am different from him. Those are the parts I want to honor. I've tried to give him a chance. I've tried to show him loyalty, even in the face of the opportunity to get closer after this trip to the Hamptons. But now, I'm done and I don't care how long it takes James and Jack to get back because when they do, I'll be here waiting, and this time, I'll take them up on their offer. I'll help them steal from my father. I'll get the revenge I didn't even know I wanted, and I'll take the opportunity to wreak havoc.

But where are my men? I leave the bathroom and don't even bother going back to the dining room. I don't care about the consequences and, at this point, there probably won't even be any; being locked in my room is too comfortable for my parents and, as a result, they won't come looking for me.

Feeling a little better after throwing up, I go back to my room and close the door. I look at the plush furniture and sit alone. I can't wait for James and Jack to show up again because it could be months. Frankly, it could be never, and my heart breaks. What if that's what the future holds? Am I really going to raise this baby alone as a single mother?

No, my heart speaks. You will replace a way, Ari. You're a survivor. You've come this far living under the iron fist of Harrison Smith, and you will replace a way out.

But how? I cry out to myself. If I want to get to the next level, I have to get in touch with the men one way or another. But I can't call them on the phone or send them a letter. Suddenly, I'm struck by a flash of inspiration that makes me smile: there is something I can do. It worked once. It could work again. It's a slim chance, but it's all I have.

I wait impatiently for the noises in the attic to die down and for my parents to fall asleep. The air is still and only shadows dance in the hallway. Quickly, I put on my most daring robe and panty set. It's red mesh, totally see-through, and it cinches my curves, with a neckline so low it comes just above my nipples. Shit, my cleavage is huge, and my ass is accentuated by the tight material that ends halfway up my buttocks. I bought it as part of a sexy lingerie binge, but I've been too shy to wear it. Now is the perfect time.

Of course, it looks like I work in the red light district, but that's what it's all about. Come to me, James and Jack, hums my heart as I comb my hair. Please come to me. I need you.