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I'm still clutching my stomach when I see them. Quinn. My mother. The bags under their eyes tell me they haven't slept in a while or maybe they've been crying. Or both. They already know what I've just discovered. The absolute anguish on their faces tells me everything I need to know.
And yet, like a fool, like a silly little girl still clinging to hope, still wanting to believe in fairy tales and happy endings, I don't want to believe it.
I can't.
"M-Mom… Mom, the baby…" My gaze flits frantically from my mother to my best friend. "My baby…"
"Honey, I’m… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry."
Those are the words Quinn repeats, like she's the one that needs to atone for what happened. As if it's her fault that I'm lying here now, in the same place I swore I’d avoid like hell ever since I found myself here the first time, all those years ago: trapped in a bed without the baby who should be here with me.
It doesn't matter that the circumstances that brought me here are different.
It just matters that the end result is the same.
Wet heat rolls down my face. My throat locks up, a sob wracking through my chest. I was going to have a little boy. A precious little troublemaker for Violet to look after as a big sister—and now, he's gone. I won't have anything to remember him by besides my desperate devotion to being his mother and a handful of ultrasound pictures. He was so small… so small… Would there be anything left of him after what Holly did?
A bloodcurdling sound fills the hospital room. I realize, only after Quinn and my mother wrap themselves around me, that it's me. Wailing. Anguished.
I want my baby back.
"W-Where… W-Where's Reese?" I sob out. "Where is he? I want—I need him?—"
But no one can give me an answer, and no one does before the weight of my grief sends me back into the dark.
* * *
The next time I wake up, I'm alone.
Metaphorically, literally. Alone in all the ways a person can be alone. Which stage of grief is this? Perhaps it's just all of them, all at once, except the one that would free me from this hell.
Acceptance.
Because I can't accept that this happened. I refuse to. Accepting would be giving Holly some kind of cosmic Get Out of Jail Free card.
She took my baby.
She set fire to the future we were supposed to have.
The heart monitor fires off. I try to calm down, to reel myself in, but it's impossible. I want to rip Holly apart. The only fair thing in this world would be making her suffer the same way she's made me suffer. I hate how ugly the thoughts are, but I hate her more for what she did to put them in my head.
"Ms. Olivia?"
There's a knock and an unfamiliar voice that calls my name again before the door opens. In comes a petite nurse in a light pink set of scrubs. When she sees that I'm awake, she gives me a faint smile. It's the look of someone who knows, but doesn't want to give into the pity.
I would know. I've seen that kind of look before.
"Hey there. Good to see you up." Her voice is bright and calm. She's used to this: acting normal when the life going on around the person she's caring for is everything but normal. She bustles about, checking equipment, marking items off on a clipboard that she hangs at the end of my bed.
I can't ask her the important questions. Why did this happen? Where is my family? I ask her the only thing I have the courage to ask a total stranger instead of giving in to my impending breakdown:
"When can I leave?"
The nurse pauses, looking over her shoulder. That same, sweet smile remains. "Normally, you'd be able to get out of here after a few hours of monitoring." Her voice is gentle. "But, given your injuries, we'll be keeping you for a couple of days. You're doing very well, all things considered. You have a very healthy body. You'll have a speedy recovery and, with some good behavior after you leave the hospital, you'll be back as good as new."
There must be some kind of skepticism on my face. She comes up to me, putting her hand on my shoulder.
"I know this has to be rough for you. But trust me when I say, you'll pull through this. According to the doctor, you should be able to conceive again, after this?—”
