Page 316 of Wicked Brutal

“Ally?”

“I need my mom.” Another cramp. Sharper. My hand presses against my stomach.

Darla sees it. “Ally?”

“I’m fine.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“I don’t care.”

“Ally.”

“I DON’T CARE!” I grab Mom’s hand again. “I need her.”

Then warmth slides down the inside of my thigh. I freeze. Another warm line follows. Darla looks down. Her face changes.

Ryan sees her face. “What?” She doesn’t answer. “What is it?”

I look down. Plaid skirt. Bare legs. White socks soaked in Mom’s blood. And fresh red running down the inside of my thigh. One line. Then another. My hand covers my stomach.

No. No. No.

Everything goes quiet.

“Ryan?” Barely a whisper. He hears me. He always hears me.

His eyes snap to mine. “What?”

I can’t say it. I look down. He follows my eyes. He sees the blood. His face goes white.

“No.” Another cramp tears through me. I fold forward. Ryan catches me. “NO!”

Darla moves. “Ally, lie back.”

“No! Mom!”

Ryan’s scream tears across the yard. “EMT!”

“Ryan—“

“I NEED A FUCKING EMT! SHE’S BLEEDING! SHE'S PREGNANT AND SHE’S FUCKING BLEEDING!” He lowers me onto the marble. His hands are shaking. “Baby, look at me.”

“Our baby. Ryan, there’s blood. There’s so much blood.”

“Don’t look.”

“Our baby.”

“You’re okay.” His voice breaks. “You’re both okay.”

“Don’t lie to me.” That destroys him. His face crumples. “Please.” I grab his shirt. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t know.” His forehead drops against mine. “I don’t fucking know.”

Another pain rips through me. I scream. Darla is over me. Someone else drops beside her. Questions come from everywhere.

“Almost Thirteen weeks,” Ryan says. Another question. “Her father slammed her into the wall.” Another. “He shook her.” Another. “Thursday too. He hurt her Thursday too.”