Birth From The Waist

Chapter 39

The past few days were stressful for me. After Sammy was discharged, the constant paranoia and need to monitor every miniature movement, fiddle, and respiratory cycle he took overwhelmed me; afraid I'd lose my child, my soul and be the cause of it all.

My baby had recovered, was doing well, and by the looks of it, most likely pooped his nappy, I think as I gaze over his angelic face as he sleeps tummy side down, nothing could stop me from reaching out into the cot and grabbing him. I had the urge to hear him squeal, laugh or even cry; why? I was bored. These past days I would use the excuse of Sammy to part away from Alex, and after every encounter the same contemplations and thought processes would return, was I neglecting Alex?

But then the strong and omnipotent feminist voice inside my head would come to life and permit to see what was so wrong in the predicament, so disappointing in regards to my feelings and the hint of love I still feel for Alex no matter how much he hurt me, perhaps I could attempt to salvage as much of the relationship as possible! Hell, I can fix the whole relationship, I can play along, give Alex a speech, convincing him discreetly that he should stop doing whatever the hell he's doing, an indirect reference to his indecent acts, meanwhile changing him for the better, and he still thinks I know nothing whereas I know all. That sounded like a plan. But something told me to wait it out, wait it through!

I caress my son's face taking in his minute features, his gorgeous skin and the amazing scent that was deflected of a baby, I gently push his hair back when suddenly, a loud vibration is felt in the back of my jeans pocket. No longer am able to wait, no longer having the patience to deal with this anymore, I take out the phone to reply to whichever family member was texting in to check on my son. To my surprise it wasn't anyone I knew.

Blocked (2)

Attachment

Love Always Sherlock.

My eyes widen in disbelief, why is this entity continuously harassing me, it's almost like a sought out act, they must destroy everything in my life and watch from afar, as I suffer and deal with the consequences.

I tap the attachment, and the loading bar is present, 20%, 70%, 95% and the image had downloaded.

I could not contain my reaction, a loud gasp exits my throat, a painful stinging feeling is present, my stomach began to churn almost as if my parietal cells had reacted.

I close my eyes no longer am able to comprehend this malicious entities, tactics. I gaze upon the image once more, and there a set of hands holds a picture of a funeral card, 'sorry for your loss'.

I lock my phone instantly, what was Sherlock playing at? Who was he refering to? If he was refering to my baby, God I would kill the bastard. God forbid anything happen to my baby. But the worse factor of this all was how a person can send such a message to someone, Sherlock knew Sammy was a baby, why would they wish such maliciousness on a pure child.

My eyes flinch towards the window immediately, my heart skips a beat, 'what about if they're talking about someone else, someone like..... Alex!'

Alex!

"Holy crap, Alex!"

I immediately open my phone, my fingers trembling with fear, it takes me almost a minute to find his name, this stress was corrosive. "Please be okay, please!" I mutter as I click his name and the infamous ringing tone is heard.

The phone dials for a few seconds, my body reacting frantically, a pure episode of adrenal release. I didn't know what I was thinking or mumbling, all I remember was praying, lots of praying, hoping Alex would pick up the phone and say hello. "Please answer, please Alex, God help me, please! Tears were threatening to release. The phone dial ends, as if he had answered. Relief overcomes me.