You Fill My Heart

Your Arms Feel Like Home

"Damnit!" His hands pounded against the closed door. "Damnit!"

The male nurse behind him still held onto the back of his shirt, "Do it again and I'm calling security" He warned, giving the flannel in his hand a tug. Ricky took his fist off the door, backing away from it slowly. "Why don't you go find somewhere to cool down" the nurse instructed, turning Ricky's body towards the other side of the hallway.

Obeying, he let his feet move in the direction of the waiting room. Coming into the small space, his eyes rest upon the sight in front of him: Kathleen has her head lying on George's shoulder while John is stretched across both their legs; his little chest rising and falling in peaceful sleep.

Ricky knelt down silently, placing a gentle hand on the top of the child's head, kissing him softly. "I love you" he whispered before departing.

He pushed the doors open to the parking lot; letting the brisk December air smack him in the face with it's chilly vengeance. The car was parked exactly 5 rows down from the main entrance. He took a deep breath and walked towards Parking Lot C Section 2, where it sat parked crookedly in it's small confinement. Pushing a button on the small remote in his pocket, he threw the door of the red vehicle open and climbed inside.

The car was cold; the temperature on the dash read a nippy 37 degrees. He exhaled and inhaled slowly, taking shaky breaths that could be seen through the mist of night air. His chest tightened, slowly beginning to constrict the air flow to his lungs. The temperature dropped a degree and a tear rolled down his face. The anger and hurt was bubbling in his blood. He looked out the windshield at a squirrel hopping off a light pole; watching as it's small body hopped easily from the pole, to the cold ground, and scurried away without a worry or thought that it could have died had it not landed the jump.

He took another shaky breath, while his teeth began to chatter in uncontrollable anger.

She was dying. Amy was going to die.

Bang

His fist pounded the seat next to him; feeling the cold leather material smack against his skin.

Bang.

He did it again, pounding repeatedly; the sound reverberating like bullets hitting a target in the confinement of the SUV.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Another ten rounds.

He stopped suddenly, pulling back to admire the rapid pulsing of his right hand; it's throbbing red shape complimenting the dark bruises lining the outer side. The tears cascaded down his red face; falling in heaps onto the thin t-shirt he was wearing. He was alone.

Bang.

Another hard blow found it's way back before turning towards the circular steering wheel showing a dim shade of blue around the buttons and devices.

The baby...

His left hand had started to shake along with his legs; the nerves inside them feeling as if they were about to snap. Both hands gripped the wheel tightly, turning the knuckles a sickly white. His body began shaking, vibrating the seat beneath him.

Letting out a screeching howl - like a battle cry of a wounded soldier - his hands tightened their grip before one released and let the tension get the better of it.

His child was dying. The life and innocence of his little girl was being stolen in that moment.

The bruises added to the screaming as it pounded against the wheel; his face contorting in unknown expression as the screaming, hiccupping sobs overtook the once silent peace of the vehicle.