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Chapter 9
New Hope
~Cassandra~
Thirteen weeks
I have to figure out so many things to get my life in order, and fast. Worries keep bugging me, spinning in circles. At least Raine was thrilled; her tearful eyes caressed my yet to be born babies with hope.
Dammit, how am I going to tell Logan that no strings, one-night stand ended up with two peanuts seeded in my womb? Should I let him know? Is it relevant for him to know?
I know so little about the man I slept with. Two parts of him are left as presents growing in my belly. With no idea how to get in contact with him, I let myself make an excuse to keep them as my secret.
Such a powerful man probably will want them for himself. I doubt he’d feel threatened by the news. Not knowing what he will do when he finds out about twins has my body zinging with warning signs of the upheaving panic.
I drop to the floor and put my back to the wall, knowing perfectly well that my rapid breathing and tingling in my legs are signs of a panic attack. I don’t want to hurt them. I anchor my thoughts to more positive things trying to escape.
Frantic, I shut my fears in the box and hold my knees in a steely grip, waiting. The muscles lock, and the hot sensation spreads all over my body, unraveling me. A most dreadful thought invades my mind.
I might suffocate to death, taking two unborn lives with me.
As I start to choke on my worst fear ripping my balance apart, hot tears burst from my eyelids. I try to call for help, but my voice is gone. For the first time, I need someone to be here and keep me anchored. I don’t want to be alone.
For two long years, I lived alone; no one ever witnessed my struggles. Only the doctor knew the truth. My sisters never had the honor to be near my broken, choking soul.
I think of my panic attack manifestation of my past self coming up for air, only to find that the dead do not need to breathe in oxygen. Instead, Sandra feeds on my fear. Her past is a phantom that always tries to drag me to the darkness to fight her demons, causing massive misery afterward.
The high-pitched sound ringing in my ears and the hammering pulse in my head are bad signs. If I don't take my next breath soon, I will explode from the inside out. Help, I whimper, afraid to die. My mind fractures, but before I lose consciousness, someone’s cold hands grab my head and force it between my legs.
“It’s ok, breathe, Cassandra. Take deep, slow breaths.” Someone’s voice filters through the thunderstorm raging in my temples.
And as on cue, I begin to breathe again as a starved woman. I gulp in the air and try to fill my lungs with oxygen. I might not get another chance. My body feels so weak, I have no strength to raise my head to look at my savior.
“Calm down, breathe, you are safe.”
Cold lips kiss my temple as I lay my head on their shoulder, tears of relief bursting out of me. After an intense struggle to survive my demons, I am drowsy, but I force myself to look.
Aisha.
I start to sob, seeing her distraught face. My youngest sister holds my shaking, weeping frame, and strokes my back in comfort until I fall asleep.
Much later, I wake up on the couch with my head on a pillow, in the dark, small apartment. I have no recollection of how I got myself on the sofa in the living room. I search my small flat to find my two sisters, and Arianna, quietly talking in my bedroom. As soon as they notice me, they all turn in unison to greet me with elated looks on their faces.
“Oh, I am so happy, Auntie, that you’re going to have two babies instead one!” Arianna launches herself into my arms, her joyful energy infectious.
Arianna giggles, jumping and dancing around my small bedroom. “Hey Rapunzel, hold your hair for a second. They are not puppies, you know, but pooping, crying, and always hungry, cute little monsters.”
Raine embraces me as her blue eyes, shining with joy. “Of course she doesn’t. She forgets even her dog, and would rather play PlayStation!”
Her daughter turns around and sticks out her tongue in mischief. Eight years old and full of energy.
“Mum, but I will be the best with the little peanuts, I promise!” She makes a cute begging face, somehow pulling it off at her age.
“Oh please, hands off, ok? I need to get my turn this time around. As you know, I didn’t get to see any of my nieces or nephews growing up in the past,” Aisha says, with sudden apprehension. She’s walking on thin ice, recalling her two perished nephews, my sons. I suck in a deep breath and smile, pushing down the pain.
“I hope to cash it in, you know. I doubt that caring for two will be possible without you pitching in. I’ll call in saint sister duty to help and serve me,” I threaten.
After living so long in misery, I feel warm sunrays reaching and warming my center. There is some hope looming for me to latch onto.
