Hours, Minutes, Days

Three Weeks

TW: discussion of death and loss, injuries, violence.

....and with dramatic flare he plunges it deeply into my thigh.

It is his intention to kill me but he has to see me suffer, even though he should be in a hurry. He can not help it. His smile has taken on a new form as he continues to stab me frantically. I can't tell what has been cut or how many times he has plunged a scrap of mirror into my flesh, but he is failing to deliver a killing blow. His laughter is maniacal and his eyes are wild. I have a hard time finding any humanity in him at all.

At once, I hear the door burst open. Maybe I will survive this after all, maybe the baby... I see a flurry of policemen, and I hear George mutter under his breath. "You stupid bitch. Look what you have done."

His rage and his desire for revenge have caught him. He sees no way out. I believe I am dead. Me and the baby. My thoughts are racing. It is amazing how many things you can think of in an instant in moments like these. My mind races to the things that I wish for the most. I wish I had one more chance to talk to Jake. I wish I had the chance to hold my baby and tell her of the happiness that she brought to our world. I think of all of the things that I had planned to do, so many things that the two of us had planned for our future.

I can still imagine us smiling and laughing, holding her in our arms, a perfect thing with his blue eyes and my blonde hair. For one... two... three seconds, I smile, swept away to this place and time that will never be.

Then I am back in reality with a sweaty, sputtering, angry man looming over me. He has trapped me under his hips and has exhausted himself. Taking a quick break, he is ready to act again. His hands raise above his head ready to plunge the shard in, take my life and the life of my child. I take a deep breath and lock my jaw. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing my sadness. or my fear. He will not get the reaction that he is looking for.

I can feel blood pooling around my body, it is sticky and thick. It smells of iron and stings my nose. I am growing cold and the world seems to dim. I will not last much longer. I can hear rustling outside the bedroom. The police are working to clear each room. Of course, I picked the room farthest away from the front door.

People are yelling at him, begging him to make the right choice, but he refuses to put down the weapon or turn to face them. He instead lifts his arms a little higher. He is going to be caught, but not before he does what he came here to do. In his mind, he would rather perish than give up this revenge. I see the smile on his face and a last twitch of delight. At the same instant, I hear a gunshot and I feel the weight of his body land on me.

A flurry of activity overwhelms this small bathroom. People are rushing in, EMTs I think. One of them throws his body off of me and begins checking out my injuries. I hear another one talking, assuring their partner that my blood pressure is faint, but I should make it if they can stop the bleeding. I am fading in and out, but hear snippets of their conversation something about multiple stab wounds and lots of blood loss.

I want to cry, to think about Jake. Is he alive? Am I going to live? What about the baby? I am trapped here, too weak to move, barely able to speak, worried that I have lost both of my loves in one night. I have to think that Jake is alive and will find me. I will hold on to that. He will always find me. If not on this Earth then on the other side.

I turn my head to see George's cold, dead eyes. I lose it. All of the fear and the panic that I refused to let him see flows out of me. The sound is primal and ear-piercing. "BABY!! MY BABY!" I scream. My voice is so loud and panicked that I don't recognize it.