“Please,” I beg, my voice breaking. “Just tell me if my baby is okay.”
She pauses at the door and for a moment, I think she’s going to answer me as her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something, but then she looks away.
“I’ll get someone,” she repeats, and then she’s gone.
The door closes, leaving me alone again and deafening silence fills the room. My chest tightens as my breathing becomes uneven, my thoughts spiraling faster than I can control.
If my baby was okay, she would have said so. She wouldn’t hesitate. She wouldn’t avoid the question. She wouldn’t run out like the hounds of hell were after her.
The realization settles in slowly, then all at once, crashing into me with devastating force… Something happened.
My hand presses harder against my stomach, as if I can force it to change, as if I can rewrite whatever has already been done.
“No…” I whisper as tears blur my vision.
My body starts to shake, my chest tightening painfully as the truth forms in my mind.
My baby is gone.
A sob breaks free, and I press my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it doesn’t help. The pain is everywhere, tearing through me, leaving nothing untouched.
I can’t breathe properly. I can’t think. I can’t take it… I just can’t. Not when my baby is gone.
I can't stay here. I need to leave.
My hands move to the IV line, and I yank it out without hesitation. Pain shoots up my arm instantly, making me wonder why they make it look so easy in movies. Blood beads at the site, sliding down my skin, but it barely registers.
I pull the wires off next, my movements clumsy and rushed as my hands shake uncontrollably. The machines start beeping louder, but I ignore them.


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