Thomas Hewitt: End Of The Line

Broken Halos

It had been close to an hour that Ronnie had spent pacing back and forth between the concrete walls. She wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, but she couldn't sit still. To her surprise, the pain hadn't come right away. Instead, her body opted to keep her in limbo, in constant anticipation that grew with each step she took. She knew it wouldn't be long until she couldn't stand on her own two feet, until the sting that came from biting the skin off of her lips and nails would pale in comparison to what she was about to endure. She found herself wishing it would have been immediate, that as soon as her water had broken she'd been thrown right in, because the waiting was hell. It only gave her more time to think, which in recent months she'd decided was the devil's work. She had played out this exact moment in her own mind too many damn times and wondered endlessly about what was more likely to kill her. With how weak she was she figured the pain alone would be enough to end her life, or perhaps their child would split her in two and blood loss would be what she fell prey to. Maybe she'd live long enough for Hoyt to have his way after all. Devil's work she reminded herself after that last thought, but she knew it would be foolish to forget him.

"I've gotta do this without screamin'," she said matter of factly as she turned back to Thomas, who stood still as ever as he watched her, "if he hears me, we're done for."

Though he wasn't moving, his own body was restless as well. He hoped whatever instinct Mama had informed him of would kick in soon, because he hadn't a clue of what to do, at least physically. He wanted to hold her, but he could tell she needed to move. He was completely at her command, ready to do what was expected of him. He just wasn't sure what that was yet, but he figured he'd know when he saw it. As far as what she'd just said, it frightened him more than he wanted to admit. He didn't know much about childbirth, only the stories Hoyt had told him about his own beginning and those memories only made his fears harder to keep hidden. He had taken his first life at birth, his own mother's and her pain was so great that her cries of agony had lingered like the smell of death on the wind along the Texas countryside. How Ronnie expected to contain such a sound escaped him, but he was quick to offer something for her to make an attempt with. He unbuckled his belt, removed and folded it to hold out to her. At least the leather wouldn't break her teeth if she bit down too hard.

"Better than nothin'," she said with a forced smile.

She approached that wooden table in the middle of the room again and was glad of it, because as soon as she reached its edge the first wave of pain struck her. It started in the small of her back and worked its way around to her abdomen, where it spread throughout her like wildfire. Her body tightened in on itself and her breath left her momentarily as she grabbed hold of the table to steady herself before she doubled over. It was only a taste of what was to come and still it took everything in her to stifle the sound that threatened to rip out of her throat. She ground her teeth together and scrunched her face up as the vibrations from the guttural groan that escaped her tickled her tightly pressed lips. Just as quickly as it had come, it began to fade. It was only then that she felt his arms around her, cradling her belly from behind. She hadn't even noticed him move. As her body relaxed again she released a drawn out breath that blew some of her curls out of her face before she straightened up. Thomas didn't let his hands leave her, but he stepped back a bit to allow her to turn.

"Okay," she panted out with a nod, "that wasn't so bad."

She barely believed her own words and she knew those wide eyes of his weren't buying them either. The wooden ceiling started to creak above them, strained from the pressure of a pair of heavy boots. Panic flooded Ronnie's chest, she knew who it was. How many minutes did she have until the next bout of pain? From what little knowledge she had on the matter, maybe ten at most, but it wasn't a guarantee. Thomas could see her dread in the way her eyes frantically moved from side to side and he gently squeezed her hand. When her eyes stopped their wandering and met his, he gave her one nod. She could bear it, he knew it wouldn't be easy, but if she had to hide her pain he knew she could. If she had to break his hand in the process, he didn't care. Hoyt would know nothing, that was all that mattered.