"Your feet are like blocks of ice."

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There was someone stroking my hand and it tickled. The bed was uncomfortable and, as I stirred in my sleep, I heard creaking. My eyes fluttered open. I was in a small, white room. Monitors bleeped with steady rhythms and the smell of disinfectant hung in the air. Niall was sitting in a chair next to the bed, his face drained and pale, but it lit up when he saw that I was awake. He leaned closer, not letting go of my hand.

"I thought you were dead," he whispered. Dead? Why the hell would he think something like that? I patted myself down; no stitches or wounds came to light under my fingers. I stared at Niall curiously. I heard movement behind me, and I craned my neck to see the source. I watched as my mother walked out of the room without saying a word to me. Nice.

"What's going on?" I asked, stifiling a yawn. The last thing I could remember was sitting in History. With a sore stomach. My hands flew to my tummy. Was my baby okay? From the look on Niall's face, I could see that this was worrying him as much as it was worrying me. I gripped his hand tighter. Oh God, what if I had lost it? I felt my heart break at the thought. Please let it be alright, I prayed.

Mum returned, a doctor following her into the room. She closed the door and looked at the chart at the bottom of my bed. I hated hospitals; I absolutely couldn't stand them. I didn't know if it was the smell or the people, but the thought of them made my heart fall several inches. This doctor had long black hair and strong features.

"Evie McKenzie," she murmured. Yeah, I could remember my name, thanks. She looked at me, her face sad. "Would you like me to talk to you on your own?" I glanced at Niall, who was determinedly not looking at me. He was glaring at the cheap looking floor, his eyes like glass.

I shrugged. My mum got to her feet once more and left.

"I'll go too if you want," Niall muttered. I didn't want him to leave. If I was going to hear news like this, then I wanted someone to be there with me. Otherwise, I might do something stupid. I shook my head and he stayed put. Mum closed the door behind her, leaving a stony silence.

"Do either of you have twins in your family?" she asked.

"Me," Niall said, looking at her. "I've got twin brothers."

"Well, it appears that you've suffered from foetal resorption, or vanishing twin syndrome," she told us. "It's a lot more common than thought and basically what happens is that one of the foetuses will die and then is reabsorbed into the lining of..." I tuned out at that point and stared at the ceiling. There had been two? I had been pregnant with twins? I wanted the doctor to shut up. I wanted her to leave the room. How could she be so matter of fact about it? I felt like my life was crumbling down around me and she was getting paid to tell me this.

"It's quite rare to react in the way that you did, but every pregnancy is different," the doctor said. She sounded like she was smiling. Whatever kind of smile it was - reassuring, patronising, happy - it felt like a kick in the gut for me.

"What about the other baby?" Niall choked. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't bear to see the look on his face.

"Usually it doesn't affect the rest of the pregnancy," she explained. "But it'll be in your notes and your sonographer will make sure that there are no underlying problems." What felt like an age passed. The doctor walked to the door.

"If you have any problems, I'll have the nurses give you my number."

And she was gone.

It was easy for her; she just had to tell us. Me? I had to live with the knowing that my baby was dead. Was this an indication about how good a mother I would be; I couldn't even keep my child safe when it was inside me. What was it going to be like once I had had the other one? I still couldn't look at Niall. Did he blame me? Did he think that it was my fault? I sunk back down in the bed. Niall was still holding my hand.

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