Page 84 of Penn

The pain is not a wave. A wave has a peak and a breaking point. This is a solid shooting pain through my pelvis, and I swear, my insides are going to grind my bones to dust. I grip the rails on the hospital bed, beyond annoyed with the high hum of the fluorescent lights above me.

They’re mocking me. I don’t know how or why, but they are, and I hate them. And the green wallpaper in the room. And the nurse. She’s a twat.

“Breathe, Dixie. Just blow it out like you’re blowing out a candle,” she tells me.

She’s a stout woman with a name tag that reads Brenda, and she pats my knee with a hand that’s too warm and too heavy. As nice as she’s being, I can’t help but want to bite her.

I scream, not caring if I shatter the glass and make it rain down on the white floor. “Get this thing out of me!”

Even when the contraction subsides, it’s not as relieving as I think it should be. Nothing about this is comfortable. There is no position I can find to make it any better. Everything hurts, and I want someone to club me over the head with something hard to knock me out.

“This is terrible.”

“You just have to breathe—”

“I am breathing!” I shout. “I’m the big bad wolf blowing the damn house down, Brenda. I just want this out of me. Now!”

This makes her smile, and I want to rip it right off her face. She may not be a twat, but I am not in the mood to be entertaining. Or charming. I’m in the worst pain of my life, and no one seems to care. Outside of telling me to breathe.

I am fucking breathing. If I wasn’t, I’d be dead. Did you think about that, Brenda? No, no you did not.

“I need the doctor,” I say as I roll from side to side, trying to ease the discomfort. “I cannot do this. I swear to God, I can’t do it.”

“Dr. Evans is on her way, dear. She’s just down the hall,” Brenda says, her voice infuriatingly calm. And patronizing. “You are dilated to eight centimeters, and you’re doing wonderful.”

“I am not doing wonderful,” I scream. “I want the epidural. You promised me the medicine. Where is that woman with her needle?”

Great, I sound like a drug addict. But I honestly don’t care. Shove that needle in me. Give me the medication to stop this pain.

“Dr. Evans is coming,” she promises. “Just try to focus on your breathing.”

Pulling myself up, I glare at her, gripping the bedrail so hard my knuckles turn white. “I swear, Brenda, if you tell me to breathe one more time, I might actually murder you.”

Sweat slicks my forehead, and I hate how my hair sticks to my forehead and cheeks. I feel gross, exposed, and completely terrified. I’m alone with a stranger while a man I barely know stands outside my room to keep guard.

Hendrix Mann is a fine guy, but I’ve only met him twice. He’s not a big drinker, so I haven’t talked to him much because when he’s at the Seven Crows, he’s not sitting at the bar.

I can’t help the smile as I remember the pure panic on his face when my water broke. He was downright cartoonish, trying his best not to run in circles with his arms waving above his head.

No, I want Penn here. Misty offered to come, but I could hear the terror in her voice. Her last visit, especially with labor, was beyond traumatizing, and I told her not to worry about it.

But I want someone here to hold my hand. To tell me I’m doing okay, even if it annoys me. But they better not tell me to focus on my breathing if they want to live beyond tonight.

Loud footsteps come running down the hallway, and my heart races. Is it Penn? Please let it be Penn.

“Oh my God!” I cry out, grabbing the railing with both hands as another contraction hits. “Get me the drugs!”

Penn appears, and he looks like hell. But also absolutely beautiful. The sight of him calms me the slightest bit, but my body still feels like it’s being ripped apart.

“Dixie,” he pants, taking my hand in his. “You got this. I’m right here.”

To his credit, he doesn’t even wince when I squeeze his hand through the rest of the contraction, but I know it hurts. As the pain subsides, I release it, and he shakes it out.

“Perfect timing. We should have enough time to get this catheter in before your next contraction,” a tall woman says as she rolls in with a cart. “I need you to sit up on the side of the bed and round your back like a cat. Can you do that for me?”

“You think I can move?” I ask with a laugh.

Penn takes my hands and pulls me up, and I swing my legs over the side of the bed. He crouches down, bringing me with him, and I stare into his eyes. “You’re doing so good, baby.”