Alpha's Fallen Angel

Chapter 70-Amara

Three weeks later

I breathe through another contraction. They're coming every five minutes now, but I didn't exactly feel like going to the hospital just to be sent home for another false alarm like I did last week.

'Uh, you going to explain why I feel like I'm being ripped apart from the inside every five minutes for the last two hours?' I hear Roman's voice come through my head as I feel the contraction start to come down

'It's still early labor, probably. No sense in going to the hospital yet, if it even is actual labor.' I tell him

'Alright, well, I'm coming back in and getting the hospital bag, so we're ready. The books said once they're every five minutes, we should think about heading in,' he reminds me.

I don't respond just as I'm hit with another contraction and suddenly feel like I peed myself. Oh, good Goddess, here we go. I put my walls up so he doesn't have to feel anything.

'Scratch that, my water just broke,' I say, and not even twenty seconds later, he appears next to me

"Get in the car; we're going now," he says

"My pants are soaked; get me a towel and a dress or something; I am not sitting in this," I say, sharper than I mean to

"Of course, babe, one sec," he says before disappearing and reappearing with my requested items.

Without asking, he pulls my soaked pants off me, puts my skirt on, and hands me the towel. Thank the Goddess for this man; that would have taken me at least five minutes to do.

"Ready?"

I nod as he grabs my arm, and I slowly waddle toward the car; I couldn't walk faster than a snail if I even wanted to. I have to stop and grab the counter as another contraction twice as intense hits me again. I whimper through it this time.

Finally, finally, we reach the car, stopping and leaning against it as I breathe through another. Fuck, this shit hurts. That epidural has my name all over it; I have no desire to do this shit naturally. It's only a twenty-minute drive, it's only a twenty-minute drive. I chant to myself as they hit me closer together, each one more intense than the last during the drive.

I can't even sit normally; with each contraction, it feels like my asshole is about to blow out, and I have to get off my butt. I close my eyes as I feel the back of my neck starting to get damp, but Roman pulls me from my momentary peace between contractions.

"We're here, babe. Can you walk?" he asks

"Well, I definitely can't fucking sit anymore," I snap at him.

I didn't mean to sound mean, but clearly, I'm not exactly having the easiest time here next to him. I try to shift my buttcheeks to get out of the car, but holy shit, it hurts. I let out a cry as I try to move my hips. Oh, and of course, there's another contraction coming. Goddess, I need a fucking bathroom.

Walking inside takes another ten minutes, and I finally opt for a wheelchair. Fuck it, I have no shame at this point. Instead of sitting on it, I turn the opposite way and put my weight on my knees, resting my head on my arms hanging over the pack. It worsens the pressure but is better than feeling like I'm sitting on a bowling ball.

Everything moves in a blur as soon as we enter labor and delivery; one second, I'm in the wheelchair being pushed by Roman; the next, there are at least three nurses on me, and Dr. Crowen's name is being paged over the loudspeaker. We're wheeled into a room before the nurses help me into bed. Between contractions, they try to lay me on my back, saying Dr. Crowen will need to check my cervix, but there's no way in hell that's happening, so they settle for my side, not that I give them a choice.