Shelby's P.O.V.
Author's Note: A bit of a warning that generally these chapters are about a month apart- this one is written a week later so... Yeah. Next update Shelby will be six months.
The room was dark. I was curled into a tight ball, eyes forced open. Each time I'd blink I would see it again, then my hands would begin to tremble, and I'd thrash and scream and weep. The wood panels beneath me creaked with each breath. The door was ajar, showing the moonlit camp and the sparkling stars splattered across the blue sky.
There it was. It towered over the camp, glaring down on us. My stomach clenched and I screamed, body aching. I looked away, watching glistening tears pad onto the floor.
When I raised my hands, they were shuddering, veins raised and hands almost glowing in the milky light. It flooded over me, and my throat closed around another wail.
I wrapped my arms tight around my bulging stomach. Tiny feet pushed against the further constraint, and thrashed. I could do nothing to calm them.
I dragged myself away, feeling weak and dizzy. I leaned against the wall, looking away from the doorway.
A rough hand grabbed my face, and yanked it back towards the direction of it. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling more tears dribble over my cheeks.
"Look," It growled. "Look at him." I whimpered, trying to duck out of their grip. They smacked me, and I tumbled to the floor, silently praying I'd die from the blow. Of course not. I felt a blade, cold and sharp, pressing onto the slight bulge at my side.
"They should've been mine." The voice hissed, and the blade pressed down, the skin splitting and weeping tears of red. I cried out, scrabbling away. The hands grabbed me, smashing me back where they wanted me. They ran the blade down my side, following an invisible seam. The tiny feet pattered in panic. I sobbed, in pain, in weakness, in loss. The blade pressed again beneath the underside of my stomach.
"Look at him." I choked, gasping for air that was too thin to be of use. They leaned in, blade beginning to tear through the thin layers of flesh. "Look."
I raised my head, forcing myself to look. My throat called for him, screamed his name, then warbled into a pained cry. The blade cut down again, following the curve of the bulge.
"He did this to you," They began. "I'm trying to save you." My pleads were hoarse and pathetic. It didn't please them. The blade pressed again, down the other side.
"I'm just trying to help, why don't you see that?" They whispered, capturing my bloodied and dry lips in a heated kiss. I mewled, wishing I had the strength to push them off. The tiny feet padded again on my skin, crying, sobbing.
"Shelby." My eyes snapped open, and I pulled myself towards his sweet voice. He called again, and they pulled me back. I cried, screamed, and thrashed. The tiny feet fought against their prison. I reached for the door, hand still and determined.
"Shelby." He called again. My breaths came harsh, and sliced their way down my throat.
"Shelby." I bolted upright, gasping. My eyes adjusted to the sunlight, and I blinked. I was trembling, and felt weak. I dipped my head, trying to catch my breath. A hand laid on mine, and I jumped.
"Hey, easy there Baby Mamma. Did you dream again?" I gave a weak nod. "God damn. You okay?"
"I...I guess." My throat stung, and I swallowed dryly. I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling the rough stitches along the seams. For a minute, I held my breath. A tiny foot pressed against my hand, soon followed my others, pushing against my stomach. I sighed in relief.