21 - Beautiful

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With every haul of the siren, my heart cringes

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With every haul of the siren, my heart cringes. We roll high-speed along an uneven country road and every bump stabs at my stomach. I'm getting sick from the swaying. Closing my eyes, I just want this pain to stop.

Please, let my son be all right.

I pull my legs closer to my body to batter the bout of sharp pain. It has also spread to my back, a torment as if someone was trying to slice me in half.

"Your name is Ashlynn Morgan?" the paramedics asks.

I nod with gritted teeth.

"And how old are you?"

Patrick huffs. "Twenty-three. Are those questions really necessary? You can tell she's in a lot of pain."

I give him a meek smile.

"Sir, I understand you're upset, but I need your wife to answer my questions to see how responsive she is."

Patrick rolls his eyes. "Can you give her at least something for the pain?"

"Sorry, no. At the moment, we don't know what causes the bleeding and any intervention can make it worse." The paramedic refocuses on me. "How far along are you?"

"Thirty-three weeks."

"And are you allergic to any medication?"

"No." I cry out as shards of pain rip through me. Tears well in my eyes.

"And are you taking any medication, which includes over-the-counter medicine?"

I clench my jaw to fight the stabbing in my stomach. "I only took an iron supplement today the doctor prescribed." The words are no more than a pitiful whimper.

"Hang in there, ma'am. We are almost at the hospital."

I lock eyes with Patrick. He's unusually pale, the worry reflected in the deep wrinkles on his forehead.

I just want the baby to be fine.

The thought that my son could die, or might be already dead in my stomach, releases the tears. The sobs add to my agony.

The ambulance stops and the back doors open. My teeth chatter from the sudden chill in the night air. I'm pulled out of the vehicle.

"Twenty-three year old female, responsive, and thirty-three weeks pregnant. She is complaining about pain to her abdomen and back and is experiencing heavy bleeding."

"Let's get her inside."

My gurney is moving and doors open with a swoosh. Patrick is jogging next to the nurse. Bright lights hurt my eyes and I squeeze them shut. When I reopen them, he's gone.

More fluorescent light. Mumbling voices that blend together to a humming in my head. Piercing pain.

I squint to get the world back into focus. A hand rests heavy on my arm. I'm being pushed along a long white corridor. A sharp scent in the air gives me a headache, but it's nothing compared to the rush of torturing pain that slices into my stomach and back. I choke on my breath. The world dips into darkness.

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