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“I’m so sorry,” the doctor whispers as she places the doppler back in the holder. “Get dressed and we will discuss your options.” She leaves the room to give me privacy, and once I was dressed, she returned. Her expression changed from one of sadness, to a stoic one. I know she was trying to hold herself together for me, but she didn’t need to. She didn't know that I was already dead inside. She doesn’t need to know that the baby dying shattered my last shred of hope.
We went over the options quickly. I want to get out of here and mourn. I end up choosing the D&C because I just want to get the process over with. She schedules me for surgery the next day after I sign all the necessary paperwork. The pen in my hand shakes, my heart beat burning in my ears once again. I’m not enough for my baby to want to live. They left me. I know that the additional stressors weren’t good, but I was choosing to live for them. They were going to be my world.
Once in my car, I sit and stare at the steering wheel in silence. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I just know that I should feel something. Anger. Sadness. Anything. However, I’m numb. The pain that I expect to feel is long gone, instead I just feel like TV static. Tingly and hollow.
The next day, the procedure goes relatively quick. I haven’t made many friends in Oregon, so one of my acquaintances that I met when I first moved here offered to drive me. She was compassionate in my situation, only talking to me to ask the necessary questions.
She drops me off at my apartment and makes sure I had everything taken care of before she left. After reassuring her that I’m fine, she finally leaves me to my own devices. Sitting alone in my apartment with only silence filling the air, it finally hits me. The numbness that I previously wanted gone has fled, but bringing tidal waves of pain in its place, The tears pour out of me as the dam breaks. In a moment of weakness, I pick up my phone. After staring at Declan’s contact for a few moments, I hesitate before finally deciding to hit the call button anyway. I'm still pissed at him, but I have no one else to turn to. I have no one else. My family is dead, I have no friends. I have no one. I just need to hear his voice, even if only for a moment. It doesn’t even ring fully before he answers.
“Nat?” His voice was full of worry.
I sit in silence, not trusting myself to speak.
“Baby, please come home. Please,” he pleads. The urge to give in and tell him I’m coming home is strong. I want nothing more than to go back…
“I… I can’t. I’m sorry.” My voice sounds stronger than I felt, and I’m thankful for that. If he heard my voice break he would have been on the next flight out. I feel my nose begin to run, I sniffle softly.
“I love you, Natalia. I won’t give up on you,” he promises and I can’t take it anymore. A sob escapes my lips, and I end the call quickly.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I unlock the door and step inside. I immediately notice that someone has been here recently as the smell of cleaning solution hit my nose. Everything else looks the same except without the dirt and dust layers. I throw my bag on the couch and place my CSX on the counter before heading over to the fridge to survey what I have to work with.
To my surprise, the fridge and all the cabinets have been fully stocked, even down to a few bottles of Grey Goose. The ache in my heart only expands further as I grab the bottle from the cabinet and walk over to the sectional. Reaching down, I pull my favorite blanket from the basket beside the couch and spread it over my legs. Settling in quietly, I close my eyes to try and rid myself of the nostalgia. Nightmares reside behind my eyelids too, so it’s a lose-lose situation, forcing my eyes to open once more.
As I twist the lid to the vodka, the sound of the seal breaking echoes in the quiet room. The sound reminds me of my heart breaking, everything that we love has to break at some point, the seal on this bottle included. I don’t even bother grabbing a glass because I have zero intentions of leaving a single drop in this bottle.
Pulling up the list of movies on the TV, I scroll until I find one that looks semi interesting. It’s not like I’m going to watch it anyways, I just need some background noise while I drown my sorrows. Mentally, I’m hoping the noise will soothe the demons in my mind just a bit for me to enjoy drinking this. Physically, I know that my mind is a little bitch and has no intention of letting me get a smidge of relief from my demons.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. At this point I know turning it on will trigger any alert that Finn has set up, but maybe that’s what I need. Maybe, deep down, my soul knows that I can’t survive this without Declan, even if it is from afar. Pulling up an album I have hidden and locked away in an app, I scroll through the photos inside. Ones from my childhood with Dmitri and Declan, ones from our wedding, and silly random ones we had taken over the four years Declan and I had been sneaking away to the safe house. The photos bring some semblance of hope that things will be okay.
My breath catches as I scroll to the last photo in the album, the one that makes me question whether I’m really going to make it through the hard times. A silent tear slips from my eye, and I lift the bottle to my lips, relishing in the burn of the vodka as it slides down my throat. Drink after drink, I relish in the pain that it brings me, grounding me back down to earth. After draining half the bottle, I look back down at the photo once more.
The grainy black and white photo that once brought me a sliver of hope, one that promised everything would be okay, now brings a whole new level of grief. It’s not much, at just over six weeks, the embryo wasn’t even an actual baby yet. The doctor pointed out the yolk sac, fetal pole, and I was even able to see the heartbeat. I remember the soft thrumming of the baby’s heart echoing through the room, the tears of joy I had shed. Little embryo was going to be my world, little did I know the pain it would cause.
Throwing my phone onto the cushion of the couch, I take another long drink before standing. Swaying slightly, my feet carry me back to the bedrooms. Instead of going inside the bedroom I’d claimed as my own all those years ago, I find myself standing in the middle of Declan and Dmitri’s. I swear if I close my eyes, I can still see them wrestling around here. Slowly ambling around the room, I stop in front of a photo of the two men taken shortly before the fall out of our families. We never left one another emotionally, just physically.
My heart feels like it could shatter just looking at how happy my two favorite men were. They looked at peace. Even with the garbage life they were handed, they had a brotherhood that no one could refute.
Downing the rest of the liquor, I place the empty bottle on the dresser and stumble over to their bed. I can hold my alcohol pretty well, but drinking an entire fifth within an hour and a half is abnormal for me, I also hadn’t eaten in a while. I wanted to drink until I was numb. I want to forget everything and just go one night without feeling. Since I no longer have to worry about a fetus that was once occupying me, having an empty stomach filled with vodka will do the trick.
As I slip into the bed, I curl up under the covers. Declan’s scent still lingers in the sheets, even after they have been washed. The room is spinning, and I am one hundred percent sure that I am going to regret this in the morning. Come to think of it, I regret a lot of things the next day. I regret most of my life. Eventually sleep comes to me, and I welcome the darkness with open arms. Darkness has been my oldest friend.
The next morning, sunlight pours through the window and I roll over burying my face in the pillow. My head is splitting, everything hurts, and I’m pretty sure my heart moved from my chest to my brain. I came here last night trying to numb the pain, and I definitely succeeded. This pain isn’t the numb I was searching for, I can achieve it again, though.
I amble out of bed and head to the kitchen trying to find something to help deal with this hangover. I heard from a friend once that the best way to cure a hangover is to keep drinking. Bryce was a dumbass though… and apparently, so am I because in that same thought I find myself opening another fifth. The seal cracking of the bottle puts another fissure in my heart, ready to be healed with the power of vodka.
After packing all of my things in Oregon, I made a deal with myself. I will allow two days of wallowing in self pity and then Iwilltake my life back. I haven’t been able to wallow since that fateful day that I left, however I can now. I refuse to be depressed any longer. This has too much power over me… but the vodka tastes like relief currently.
“Here’s to day number two.” I hold the bottle up to the empty room in a cheers motion and take a long drink, shivering with delightful numbness.
Chapter eleven
Finn
It’sbeentwomonthssince Natalia left us in Oregon. She has stayed true to her word and updates me on her location every week. Each time we speak she’s in a different place, but safe, nonetheless. Declan has backed off a little, and she is thankful for that. I think seeing her really helped him realize that this is only temporary. He’s been more understanding of the situation, realizing that she is simply coping with her trauma.
Skylar’s also happy because that means I was able to return to a semi-normal work schedule. I spoke with Declan after my vacation, telling him that I wanted to be home to do bedtime with Ava, and if need be, I would come back after she and Skylar were asleep.
To my surprise, he agreed and over the past two months has stuck to his word. He’s let up a lot, giving me more time to spend with my family.
