The Burn Our Houses Down Series: If I Lose (#2)

January, Or Something Like It

January, Or Something Like It

        I feel a wave of nausea sweep over me. “I’m—I’m—”

        “Pregnant?” the nurse says. “Yes. We estimate you’re about 19 weeks.”

        “What!” I yell. “How long have I been out?”

        “Your wounds were extensive,” the nurse assures. “We’ve been trying to keep you slightly sedated while they healed—”

        “Slightly sedated? You practically put me in a coma!” I yell knocking over the case of flowers that were on the nightstand next to me. “How long?”

        The nurse goes completely rigid and fold her hands over her lap. I have no idea why I’m so angry—must be hormones. “About four months,” she responds quietly.

        I stand and stalk past the nurse out of the door to my room. Fuck this, I’m finding Aisley and we’re leaving this place. Who the hell sedates someone for four months and thinks it’s ok? This place must be filled with nut jobs.

         “Ms. Henderson,” she calls after me, but I don’t stop. I turn left outside the door and head down a barren hallway. 

        I need to find Aisley—there’s just too many questions that I know only she will answer. The pain in my stomach gets worse with each step I take. I look down and see blood seeping through my hospital gown. But beneath that, I see the small beginnings of a baby bump.

        Oh my god. I run my hands along my stomach. I am pregnant. I’m carrying the last bit of Xavier with me.

        “Ms. Henderson, please you need to get back in bed. Your wound isn’t fully healed—”

        “It’s his isn’t it?” I ask spinning to face her.

        “Who’s?”

        “Xavier’s?” I ask. I can feel the tension in my voice. “I came here with him, he—he was the one who brought me.”

        “We estimate that you got pregnant recently, but I’m sorry we don’t know who the father is,” she responds taking a hold of my arm. “Now please, Ms. Henderson, we need you to get back in bed.”

        I look again at the blood on my stomach and feel panic travel up my spine. Did I hurt my baby? Our child?

        It’s the only thing I have left of Xavier. The only thing that makes him real.

        A pain stings somewhere in my chest. Xavier—he’s not here. I start sobbing, and the nurse attempts to hold me up. I fall to my knees and feel a pain in my stomach again. A scream backed by every ounce of pain comes out effortlessly. Footsteps come barreling down the hallway.

        “Bradley!” The nurse’s head shoots up in the direction of the voice. “What the hell is going on down here?”

        “I’m sorry, sir,” she whispers. “She ran and I couldn’t get to her—”

        “Gentlemen, please escort Nurse Bradley out,” the tall man in front says. “Is everything all right, Ms. Henderson?”

        “What happened to Xavier?” I sob.

        “I’m sorry ma’am, but he was killed bringing you here,” the man says. I feel the familiar tug in my chest, but I swallow it down. “But surely you remember that, don’t you?”

        No, I don’t—because Xavier’s not dead. I’m sure of it. He wasn’t stupid enough to stand in the middle of a hot zone without taking cover behind someone or something. But why do I feel like these people are telling me the truth? Why do I hurt when I think about him? It’s like he’s some distant memory that I can just barely recall.

        “Ms. Henderson?” the man asks.

        “I don’t know,” I respond.

        The man lets out a sigh. “It’s ok, Ms. Henderson. Things must be very confusing for you right now. Let me help you to your room so you can rest.” I nod my head and reach for his hand. “In time, you’ll remember.”