Give Me Reason (The Reason Series) Read Online Free Page B

one hand.  
    "You asshole," I mutter.
    I spent three days in the hospital after that night with a skull fracture, a concussion, severely bruised ribs and a sprained wrist. I was purple and black from head to toe. On the second day I found out that Riley had been arrested and charged with domestic abuse. He was later charged with endangerment when the hospital revealed to the police that I was pregnant. They had said there was a chance that I could lose the baby, but they took good care of me.  
    Yolanda, a state social worker, asked me if I had anywhere to go. I told her no, and she did what she could to give me a safe place for me to recover after leaving the hospital. Once I was in Amber’s Place, Yolanda helped me find this apartment and set me up to meet grouchy Bartie at the diner. Given that I had no experience, he was reluctant to give me a job as a waitress, but he said I had a great smile and gave me a chance, and it all worked out okay in the end. I suppose Laura had something to do with it; she took to me quickly and was very attentive when it came to training me.  
    My stomach starts doing flips. I pull myself free of the blankets and stumble into the bathroom. At least I make it to the toilet this time.  
    After I'm done retching, I brush my teeth and run my fingers through my hair. As curly as ever. Looking myself over in the mirror, I notice that a little color has returned to my cheeks and my eyes don't seem as hollow. It must be the burger I ate yesterday, but it’ll only last for a day or two and I'll go right back to the way I was.  
    I head into the kitchen but stop before I get to the fridge, shaking my head. I’m choosing to skip the morning hot dog. Despite having just emptied my stomach, I don't feel hungry. I settle for a glass of water.  
    I grab the pen and paper and sit on my bed. Pulling the journal out to use as a hard surface on which to write, I start composing my note to Mr. Suit.  

    Mikah,  
    Or should I call you Mr. Blake?  
    While I truly appreciate your gesture yesterday, I cannot accept your outrageous tip. Please accept your change from your meal at the diner last night — you know, the one you didn't eat, and the one you forced on me.  
    I've always found ways to survive just the way that I am. I don't need your money to make it through.  
    Thank you,  
    Vivienne  

    A little while later, I leave my apartment. I'm dressed as nicely as I can manage in the skirt and blouse I wore to my interview with Bartie and the Mary Jane shoes that were given to me during my stay in the shelter. The outfit is hidden beneath my worn, oversized hoodie. It's colder today than it has been.
    My hair is down. I'm hoping that it will make me harder to recognize when I arrive at Mr. Suit’s office. I really have no desire to see him again.  
    But before I can go there, I need to make a stop along the way. I cross the street to wait at the eastbound bus stop. It’s still early – about seven thirty – and the street is mostly quiet. The daily commuters are mostly already at work, and the neighborhood crowd hasn't emerged from their houses. There are a few passing cars, but the neighborhood just looks rundown and abandoned compared to other parts of the city.  
    I’m used to living like this, though. It’s the kind of life I've always known. I grew up the only child of a single mom who worked three and four jobs. But she did it more to support her drug habits than to support me. It’s amazing that I managed to stay away from drugs.  
    The bus arrives and I climb up, put my money in the machine and grab a seat about halfway back. First stop, the diner. It's Friday — payday. Then I can run across the street to cash my meager check and head off to my next destination.  

    After cashing my check, I get back on the bus and head further east to my next destination: Moore's Family Home. I don’t usually go to see my mother on Fridays, but I figure that since I’m running downtown today