Beating For Two

Chapter 37

Sunday, May 8th

Thirty-seven weeks and six days

It wasn't that I under normal circumstances minded a stressful situation. In fact, it could at times trigger me to perform better and faster in whatever it was I was doing. In this situation, however, I did mind the stressfulness quite a lot, especially since there really wasn't much I could do except for lying there and pant, groan, cry and swear.

After a few moments of freaking out, Harry gathered enough presence of mind to pick up his phone and call Dr. Hayes who it seemed like instructed him to call an ambulance seeing as he suddenly screamed “what the hell is the number to the ambulance-people around here?” and proceeded to swear at his phone for not having the number integrated.

I had no clue whatsoever how much time passed from the moment I fell to the floor until the ambulance arrived; all I knew was that I'd never been in this much pain my life and that I now sympathized with all those women on the reality shows on TV who screamed and swore like sailors when they went into labour, because truth to be told, that was pretty much what I felt like doing as well. I didn't have it in me to actually scream, though, so all the swearing I did came out between sobs and agonized moans instead.

It seemed like Harry was almost as scared as I was, but he held onto my hand and kept mumbling a continuous stream of gentle, soothing “it's gonna be okay”'s. I couldn't find the energy or will to say or do anything to indicate that I heard him, but I appreciated his presence nonetheless. More than I was willing to share with anyone but myself anyway.

At some point right after I was being lifted up and placed on a stretcher of some sorts, I blacked out. Whether it was from distress or pain or some sedative they'd injected me with without me noticing, I didn't know; all I knew was that when I woke up next, I was lying on my back in a very, very bright room.

The walls were white, the ceiling was white, the sheets that surrounded me were white and the young nurse who was standing on the right side of the bed with a clipboard in her hands was white. Or, well, she was dressed in white at least. Ethnically speaking she was a bit too tan and dark-eyed to be white. Mexican, perhaps. Or Spanish.

I blinked a fair few times in order to let my eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, but that was all I got the time for before I cried out loudly and flung my hands down to grab onto my stomach as a violent series of contractions ripped through me. It wasn't even over before someone on my left was clutching my hand carefully and stroking a thumb over my wrist. I turned my head, feeling a little weak for some reason, and spotted Harry sitting on a chair, his back hunched and face pale. I wasn't really all that surprised, to be quite honest.

“Hey,” he said softly, offering a faint smile and another clutch of my hand, “you okay?”

“Hurts,” I grunted with a frown. My charm was reaching unknown limits today, no doubt.

“Yeah, I kinda got that,” he said. “You've been screaming quite a lot in your sleep. It sounded like you were dying.”

“I think I am,” I said. As if on cue, another contraction struck just then and made me let out a rather embarrassing screech of a sob. It went on for half a minute or so before they stopped, by which time tears had started spilling from my eyes.

“It's okay, you're not dying,” Harry said reassuringly once I was relaxing again. The effect of his words was a little weakened due to the terrified look on his face and the fact that his skin went even paler. Any paler now and he'd start looking like the inside of a green apple.

“I hate my life,” I choked out and hurriedly dried my wet cheeks with the back of my hand.

The corners of his mouth twitched a little. “It'll be over soon, don't worry.”