Ashton Irwin has been through a hell of a lot in his life. But losing his fiancé and their child during labor
Has to have been the hardest. He’s been to hell and back and finally feels like giving up.
But the question is; do you really want to give up when everyone expects you to fail?
“C’mon baby, you’ve got this.” I try not to wince under her harsh hold, wanting to be as comforting and supportive as possible. Her loud scream fills my ears, her hand squeezing the feeling out of my hand.
“One more push Taylor; then you’re done.” I know she’s trying as hard as she can. She’s so small and as much as I tried I could not convince her to get a cesarean; she just wanted to deliver naturally. ‘I’m a real woman’ she said, rolling her eyes at my idea.
“You’ve got this.” I nod at her encouragingly, grinning lightly at the one final scream, suddenly waiting for the babies shriek. I turn my attention to the doctor; noticing worry come over her features.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I question quickly, my blood running cold.
“She appears to be fine; she may just have some fluid in her lungs. The nurses are going to try and help her out okay?” Several nurses walk quickly out of the room; one of them holding the only good thing I’ve ever helped make in my life. I nod, sighing lightly; turning my attention back to Taylor, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Alright babe, you can sleep. You deserve it.” I lean over and kiss her cheek then settle back into the uncomfortable chair; closing my eyes as well.
*alarm*
“Fuck.” I rub the sleep out of my eyes, fumbling to find the lock button on my phone to snooze the alarm. Somehow I make my way into the bathroom and turning on the shower’s faucet; groaning at every step I take.
I have to go apply for some dumb mechanics job today; it’s the only option left. My landlord doesn’t give a fuck about what happened a little over three months ago and if I don’t get my rent check in by the end of the week he’s kicking me out. It’s like the world is out to get me and I’m getting real sick and tired of everything going sour.
Shaking off my thoughts I step into the luke warm shower, shuddering under the contact. That god damn dream happens every night lately; reminding me of my last words to the girl I love. I didn’t even say I love you; I didn’t even see my child while she was alive.
Amelia Rose; we were so excited to have a baby girl. We both knew it was bad luck but we set up the small room next to ours in the apartment up all nice; hanging pink baby animals everywhere and setting up the simple white crib in the corner. Everything was perfect; all we needed was the baby and we were finally going to restart our lives as a family.
I remember waking up at the hospital, the room packed full of people. I was so confused until I saw my beautiful girlfriend; tubes sticking every which way out of her. I had to watch in horror as the doctor sent shocks through her body. Nothing registered in my brain until I heard the long and agonizing beep fill the room; tears instantly falling from my eyes.
I wasn’t told what happened until later when I was about to leave the hospital. Taylor wasn’t really sleeping; her body was shutting down. The pregnancy was too much and she lost too much blood; she died slowly and I had no fucking clue.
Then when I went up to the doctor; asking to see my child and being told that the she lied to me. Amelia had been born dead; and they tried but they could not revive her small little heart.
She wouldn’t let me fucking see her; she was worried I would do something unreasonable. Who the hell did she think I was? Dr. Charles Montgomery from season one of American Horror Story? I wasn’t going to cut up my child and bring it back to life; I just wanted to see her face. I wanted to see the ray of sunshine in my life and she wouldn’t let me.
I should have sued; it at least would have helped me stay in this shit-hole apartment that reminds me of every goddamn memory I ever had with Taylor. I threatened to sue; some nurse even had the audacity to tell me ‘suing isn’t going to bring your family back.’ She thought I didn’t know that? I’d love to see that bitch have her whole world ripped away from her within twenty-four hours and see how she copes with it.
God I’m so bitter now. Nothing brings me happiness and I’m really annoyed with everyone saying “Oh its okay! It’ll get better!’ Well what the hell is supposed to happen and how is it going to get better? Nothing will get fucking better until either I die; or some genius comes up with time travel and I can force Taylor to get a c-section.
I finally catch a glimpse of my hands; noticing the wrinkles on my fingers, realizing I should probably get out of the shower. I turn off the water, stepping out onto the cold tile and wrapping a towel around my waist; walking back into my room and going to my closet. I pull out a non-holed pair of skinny jeans and a black muscle tee; grabbing a pair of grey boxers from the open dresser and sliding them on; doing the same with the rest of the clothes.
-------------------------------
“So what makes you any different than all the other low-life scum bags that come and ask for a job?” The man, whose name tag reads ‘George’ is quite stout, a very disgusting looking man.
“I don’t have a criminal record, I have a past with cars, and I have two people who make sure I make the right choices.” I don’t need to explain, even though they can’t physically tell me what to do; I know that they’re watching over me and I could never do something that would make them ashamed of me.
“Besides, I need this job and you’re my last hope. I’m willing to do anything.”
“Fine; but just know the main reason that you’re getting this job is because you don’t smell and there isn’t enough dirt caked under your nails to fill the Grand Canyon.” He smirks, walking towards the back room and nodding for me to follow. I take in my surroundings, controlling the disgusted look on my face. This place is the exact same as George, just in building form.
“Until you get the hang of things I’m gonna have you work out front. You’re decent to look at and you don’t seem to have that terrible of an attitude. You’re gonna be answering calls and figuring out what people need done and setting up the appointments; pretty sure even a monkey could do it.” He pats my head, smirking and walking back towards the back.
“You start tomorrow. I’ll get you a uniform tomorrow morning. I pay eight dollars an hour and you’ll be working about ten hours a day. Now get outta here, you’ll be spending enough time here soon.” I nod as he walks out; he pay is good enough and it’ll have to work until I can find anything better to do.
Who knew by losing my angels I’d be given a death sentence in hell.
