Friday Fiction- Part 3 of Safe

Stained Glass Mom and BabyFor two days I did not see another soul. I could not leave my room; again they’d told me that this was for my protection. I needed to be hidden, kept safe.

For two days I paced, pressed buttons, screamed at the invisible monitors that I knew were there somewhere. I even threw a chair against one of the long clear windows in a final act of desperation. The chair simply bounced off without even leaving a mark.

For two days I ate and slept and watched vids like clockwork, but all the while fear gnawed at my soul.

On the third morning I woke to the now familiar sensation of my enlarged uterus contracting around the solid form of my baby.

I didn’t need to call anyone. Moments after the first contraction hit, my nurses entered the room and transferred me to a wheeled bed with swift efficiency.

“There’s been some mistake I think.” I spoke quickly between the contractions. “I remember you talking about parents. My child is supposed to stay with me. Ammon told me my baby and I would be safe.”

“Shh,” replied one of the nurses.

“No, I think there’s been a mistake. If I could just talk to him…”

My words were cut off as another contraction gripped me in a relentless vise.

I was wheeled into a room; the same room I’d been in before. The smell of sterilization coated the inside of my nostrils. An IV was poked into my arm; monitors were strapped around my distended belly.

I looked up and saw a large mirror, almost the full size of the wall.

When the light hit is just right, I thought I could see movement on the other side.

The parents wanted to watch the delivery.

I tore the IV from my arm.

“Ammon, are you there?” I yelled in desperation to the mirror. “There’s been a mistake. My baby is supposed to stay with me.”

That was the last thing I was able to say before my entire being, mind and body, became focused on bringing my child into the world.

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6 Responses to Friday Fiction- Part 3 of Safe

  1. Sarah L Fox says:

    I agree — intense is a good word! :-)

  2. D. D. Falvo says:

    Oh, no!!! I am squirming for the poor mother. And I already hate those new parents waiting in the wings–and Ammon. Hurry up and write the next one! :P

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