lolita | bellerín

fatality

"don't make me sad,
don't make me cry
sometimes love
is not enough
and the road gets tough
i don't know why
so choose your last words
this is the last time
you and I,
we were born to die."
-------

Salome stared at the ceiling and breathed out as the cry of a newborn child pierced the air, almost like music to her ears. She would've smiled as the doctor held the child and did whatever they did once children were born, but she couldn't. She was in pain.

"It's a girl," Stated the doctor, with a content voice. Salome closed her eyes and swallowed. They'd been talking to her this whole time about how her blood pressure was high and that she had a condition or something called eclampsia, which she couldn't pronounce. It could be fatal if she gave birth to the baby naturally. And she would've had a c-section, but by then it was too late; even for an emergency one. She had to risk her life to give birth, and now, it was completely on the line.

Robert pushed her hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. "Hey," He whispered. "You're okay. You'll be alright, Salome."

Salome weakly clutched his hand. That was what she felt—weak. So weak that she couldn't even smile as she was shown her daughter, an oddly beautiful baby; especially to have just come into existence. And she would've held the girl, if her arms would just allow her to bear the weight. But they wouldn't.

So, Robert held her instead. Salome could feel herself tearing up as she uttered a few words of prayer in her native language; Spanish. But, she wondered, if God hadn't been with her at all for the past seventeen years, then why would he decide to make an appearance now?

Salome had been in the hospital overnight. Hector'd decided to just go with Bayern to their match in Dortmund, while Robert had an ankle injury and, of course, stayed with Salome. The fact that Hector had chosen to attend his football game instead of being there to support her made it obvious; they were over, and there was simply no hope left for their relationship.

But now things had drastically changed. There was no certainty that Salome would even live to see Hector ever again, as he wouldn't be home for another day. She was fatally sick, and the nurses had already expressed that there was nothing left to do but pray. But Salome couldn't pray to a god that she didn't believe in, could she?

"Do we have a name?" The nurse inquired, standing by a computer. Salome looked at Robert. Robert looked at Salome. She sighed.

"No, not yet." Salome spoke, meekly. She could barely find the strength in her to speak above a soft murmur.

Robert held the baby and stared some more at Salome, his eyes glossing over in worry. As much as he tried to tell himself otherwise, the truth was that she didn't look so good. Not in terms of physical beauty, or whatever; the last thing he cared about was that. But her skin was pale and her eyes bloodshot, filled with pain. She stared into the abyss as she struggled to properly grip the blanket she lay under.

"Ay, Dios." She muttered, closing her eyes. "I didn't think I'd be going out so soon."

"Salome, don't be like that." The Pole clutched the Colombian's hand. "You'll get through this. And when you do, I promise, you'll live the life you've always wanted and deserved. I'll do anything to make sure of it."

Salome shook her head and swallowed before opening her eyes and staring at Robert, finally breaking into a small, sad smile. "It's so sweet of you to be like this, Robert." She paused. "Okay, let me hold her."

Robert handed Salome her unnamed daughter, carefully. Salome sighed and used all of her strength to embrace the girl, sniffling slightly before ending her attempts to hold in her sobs as they fell out of her lips.

She wished she could ask herself what she'd done to deserve such a forthcoming demise, but the truth was that she'd sinned plenty in her life. Maybe this was a fair punishment. She handed the girl back to Robert. The one person she'd needed her her entire life; who'd entered it, unfortunately, at the beginning of what she'd realized was the end. Sighing, Salome closed her eyes and unintentionally drifted off into a tired sleep; knowing she'd be lucky if she woke up to see the sterile, white lights of the hospital room ever again.