Held [Completed]

Thirty One.

Thirty One.

My heart thuds in my chest the longer I stare into his grave eyes. With the way my heart is beating, I wouldn't be too surprised if joggers were jogging on my chest.

It heaves sporadically while streams of sweat continue to flow down my entire body. I'm beyond nervous and anxious. I'm petrified. He can't do this. He can't expect me to give birth like this.

"Please..." I sniffle, trying to control my sobs.  I need to convince him to take me to a doctor.

"Just take me to a hospital." I breathe out tiredly. I've been trying to breathe like how they do in movies but it's not working.

My terrified frame jerks when he grips my arms violently, making a point to cause pain.

"What. Did. I. Just. Fucking. Say? You wanted a baby so you're going to have one." He speaks through gritted teeth. The anger seething out of him is unreal and makes me very uneasy.

I open my mouth to plead again but before words can form, my airways release a small moan. My hands instantly clutch my pulsing tummy while I grimace. Contractions.

"How far apart are they?" He asks suddenly.

My mind is spinning. My thoughts are jumbled and so are my breaths. I can't think or speak. I'm a panicked mess.

"Stress isn't good for the kid, Livie. Now tell me how far apart they are."

This time I feel my legs spread. Oh no. Why is he parting my legs? What is he trying to do?

"N-no!" I try to push him away but his grip on my knees warn me. He is serious.

"If you took the time to realize that I'm helping you then things would go a lot smoother. Now, calm your ass down and count how far apart your contractions are." He commands, making me swallow dryly.

Nodding quickly, I begin to count out loud while he inserts his finger in my cervix.

"What...what are you doing?" My eyes flicker to him nervously.

"I'm measuring. Are you finished counting?" He peers at me with curious eyes. I notice him frown while he continues "measuring" me.

"Uh, I'm six... six minutes apart." By this time, I've started rocking while rubbing my baby bump.

"Shit, longer contractions means longer time in labor." He mumbles to himself.

My eyebrows frown while I observe his placid demeanor. He is way too calm and it bothers me. No one should be this calm, especially since there isn't a doctor around.

"How do you know this?" This isn't making sense. He has no idea how to deliver a baby. That's why I need proper medical attention.

"Keep your legs apart and focus on breathing." He covers my shivering body with a blanket then walks to the bathroom.

I'm left in the bed, looking more confused than a boy ladybug.

Another shiver passes through me so I pull it closer to me.

I hear shuffling in the bathroom and then he walks out. My eyes linger on the items in his arms. Two blankets. One light pink and the other blue. A small tube that drains mucus, a blood pressure monitor, a pair of scissors, some gloves, gauze, and shiny metal that looks to be stitching utensils.

I groan loudly when another intense contraction strains my body. I need to stop this pain so I try to lay on my side.

"Shit, shit, shit." He walks over to the bedside table and begins organizing the items. I get a sense that he knows what he is doing. Like he has prepared for this.