The Doctor, The Billionaire, The Baby

Its Only Pain

Hey y'all! Sorry I'm the worlds biggest asshole and left you on a cliffhanger six months ago. My moms health took a turn so I've just been trying to keep my head above water. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint, and I hope to write another one this week. Let me know what you think ;)

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I groaned as the paramedic tried to force me to open my eyes again. Everything hurt, genuinely everything. I kept my hands on my stomach continuing to feel the baby move as the paramedic started an IV on me. He apologized as he stuck me for a third time, having difficulty most likely due to dehydration exacerbated by my puke session after I watched them blow Michael's brains out from the roof on the other side of the hospital. 

I groaned again, hating the feeling of being on my back strapped down on the stretcher. As soon as I had hit 25 weeks I found laying on my back impossible without feeling like I was suffocating. Now at 29 weeks, it was worse and I knew it was only to get awful by the end of my pregnancy. The paramedics wanted to keep my flat due to the blows to my back Michael had so nicely given me with his feet.

"I need to sit up." I begged the paramedic, tears falling down my face.

He looked to be having an internal conflict with himself, but before he could speak again I felt a wave of nausea hit me full force.

"Sit me up, I'm going to throw up!" I cried out.

He quickly rose to his feet, sitting the bed up and handing me a barf bag. Every dry heave felt like I was being kicked again, and my ribs screamed with every movement either I or the baby made. 

I looked over to see the paramedic drawing up medication to put through my IV line, and prayed to god it was nausea medication. It was, along with some narcotic pain medication, luckily safe for the baby.

"I'm sorry Dr. Anderson, I wish I could do more for you right now." He mumbled, pushing the meds through my line. 

I nodded at him, trying to keep deep breaths to keep myself from throwing up again. He switched out my old bag for a new one, even though there wasn't much in the first one then busied himself with grabbing another set of vitals.

"5 minutes out." I heard called from the front of the ambulance.

"Can you call my fiancé please?" I begged, dry heaving again. "And my OB is Dr. Fanning I want her there too, please." I begged, practically hyperventilating.

He nodded, sitting next to me and rubbing my back before pulling down his radio to speak to the ER we were coming into. He relayed the information I told him, and I filled in the blanks the hospital needed as far as contact information. 

A few seconds later I felt the ambulance roll to a stop. The doors were immediately thrown open and my mouth gaped at the welcoming party. There were at least 4 doctors and 4 nurses gloved, gowned and ready. Thankfully it became clear that they weren't just there for me, but for everyone who had been hurt along with me. 

My stomach soured again as I thought of the beating Marissa took and. the beating and bullet Jay took. I dry heaved again, praying that the nausea medicine would work in this century. I was moved from the ambulance quickly and rolled into the emergency room bay. Thankfully they wasted no time in removing the straps form the gurney and transferring me to an ER bed.

I took a deep breath as they pulled me over to the other bed, trying not to cry out as my ribs screamed in pain. Tears streaked down my face, and my vision swam. I knew I had to have a concussion the way Michael had pistol whipped me, and I prayed there were no fractures to my face.