To get through a heartache after the sudden breakup, Arabella moves to New York City to start another chapter of her life.
Driven by the hope to make Adrian Castle, the man who left her broken to pieces with an excuse of protecting her against his w...
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Okay, God, make this end quick alraedy! Again, like a practised mantra I've sought effective during a panic attack, I suck in a very deep breath, and then purr it out without shifting my eyes off hers. I nod at her, giving her another emotional support she despearately needs at the moment.
It has to work.
Damn, it has to work.
Sally's clammy fingers curl around my hand so tightly. She nods back, her breath thick and heavy, and repeats squeezing her muscles so hard that I crinkle my nose feeling her struggle. Her voice ricochets loudly like a hissing cry emitting straight from her protruding belly, and I can tell how badly she wants this moment to end.
We all do.
"Yes, you're doing good! Almost there, honey. Keep pushing!" shouts the blonde lady in blue-green scrubs, who's seated between Sally's opened legs at the end of the bed.
'The room is cold, then hot; I loose track of reality at the every long, tense minute that passes.
"Fuck, no!" Sally groans in pain, withholding her energy that seems to channel out weakly from her persistence. She takes another recess while snapping, "I can't! I fucking can't." Her neck cranes to her left side against the pillow, and tears slide down to the corner of her eye.
"Yes, you can, Sally! Your baby's life depends on you now so we're gonna do this again," the same lady insists, one among the three in the room.
I bob my head in agreement; I can't bring my mouth to any utterance. I'm probably more dismayed than Sally herself even though she's the one giving birth. Imagining something else, something bigger than that thing, stretching my vagina walls like a door, knocks a breath out of me.
Okay, maybe it's the strength of a woman, right? Ugh, whatever.
The sloppy bun on Sally's head from last night has long turned to a hair wreck framing her sweaty face full of agony. Her cheeks puff like little balloons each time she does that same breathing thing that's usually followed by a yowl of pain as she starts to push all over again.
Goddamn it! It's like time has lost its wings.
"Again!" roars the lady doctor, who's now buried in the space between Sally's widened legs leaving nothing to view except her arched back and a bit of her blonde ponytail. "Don't stop now, I see the head coming! GIMME YOUR BEST PUSH, SALLY!"
As though she's fueled by the midwife's voice, I feel Sally's energy rising through her grip that almost burns me, and a nerve bulge appears across her greasy forehead. The muscles of her body stiffen alongside her teeth-clenched cry when she pushes really hard.
Her cry comes out more hysterical than before, louder, and more intense to the point where her neck props on the back of her head, tilting her face up convulsively while clinging onto me and the left guardrail of her adjustable bed with either hand.
