Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Safe.
The word feels foreign, unreal. I try to process it, to let it sink in, but all I can think about is the blood, the pain, the way my father looked as I—
I killed him.
My breath catches, a choked sound that brings the nurse back to my side, checking the IV, adjusting the wires. "You're okay," she says softly, her hand a light touch on my arm. "You're going to be okay. Just try and rest.”
I nod, but it feels like a lie. I can't shake the image from my mind, the way my father's body fell, the way my world went dark. I close my eyes, trying to block it out, trying to remember what came after. The roar of engines, the wail of sirens, Talon's voice—frantic, desperate.
He was there.
Was it real? Or was it one last trick of my mind, one last cruel twist before everything went black? I don't know.
“Talon,” I whisper. “Where is Talon?”
“We will make a call now, he has only just left. He has been by your side since you came in here,” the nurse smiles, “Between you and Lily, he hasn’t had any rest.”
“Lily?” I gasp, trying to sit up again.
“Hey now,” the nurse carefully pushes me back down. “Lily is in the hospital too, but she’s stable and doing well.”
“I need to see her,” I say again, trying to move.
“Nia, hey, I know you want to see her but you are in the ICU and unfortunately you can’t until you are more stable. I promise you she is okay, and as soon as possible, you can see her. I’ll go and call Talon now?”
I nod, tears burning beneath my eyelids.
She’s okay.
That’s all that matters.
The nurse leaves and I lay my head back, already exhausted from such a small amount of movement. My body hurts and a realization comes to me, causing me to jerk upright again. I press the nurse's button, over and over, until she comes running back in, her eyes wide.
“The baby,” I whisper, my bottom lip trembling.
The nurse swallows, and then walks over, sitting beside me and taking my hand. “I’m so sorry, unfortunately the baby didn’t make it.”
The words hang in the air. The room tilts and sways, and I am both inside my body and far beyond it, a million miles away. I feel the nurse’s hand squeeze mine. At first, there’s only shock, a numbness that spreads like ice, but then—then the hurt comes.
I wasn’t ready. The thought had terrified me when I found out I was pregnant. I was afraid of what it meant, what it would change, but now it’s gone, and a part of me I didn’t know existed is being torn open.
I lie back, helpless, the ceiling a white blur above me. I want to cry, to feel something besides this hollow ache and confusion, but the tears won’t come. “I didn’t know,” I whisper. “I didn’t know I wanted—” The sentence fractures, unfinished.
The nurse watches me with a gentle expression. “I’m so sorry. I know this is a lot to take in.” Her voice is calm, soothing. She waits a moment, then stands. “I’ll call Talon. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Alone.
I’ve been alone most of my life, but this is different. This is another kind of alone, and it’s unbearable. I close my eyes, hoping to shut it all out—the pain, the noise of machines, the world pressing down on me. I wanted to see Lily, to know she was safe, and now I’m drowning in a loss I never expected.
The door clicks shut, leaving me in silence. I count my breaths, each one a struggle. My hand rests on my stomach, a reflex I can’t stop, and the emptiness there feels like a betrayal. This hurt me in a way I can’t explain and I don’t want to feel like this anymore.
A tear rolls down my cheek.
Ten or so minutes later, the sound of booted footsteps, quick and determined, echoes through the room. Then, Talon is there, eyes searching, his face masked with something I can’t read. He moves quickly toward the bed, and when he reaches me, he takes my face in his hands and presses his forehead to mine.
I can’t hold it back anymore.
A sob rips from my throat.
“I lost it,” I say, the words breaking. “I lost the baby.”
He pulls me to him, careful of the wires and machines, and I let myself fold into him, the dam inside me shattering. The tears fall hard, a release and a surrender, and I grip his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me from disappearing.
“I didn’t know how much I wanted it,” I sob, the truth raw. “I didn’t know until now.”
He holds me tighter, his breath warm against my cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”