Page 84 of Tear Me Down (Descent to Darkness Trilogy #2)
The rest of the conversation starts off light, but then immediately turns sour, making my body ice cold.
She explains that while everything looked good yesterday, that because of the stress and strain on my body, that there’s a chance I could still lose the baby.
When the word miscarry flies out of her mouth in such a calm manner, I almost choke, but instead I freeze, and the rest of her words become muffled.
Her voice fights through the fog, and she reassures us that they will keep me until she’s confident in my recovery, and that while she doesn’t see that harsh outcome, that it’s still a possibility.
Just when I don’t think a worse conversation could come up, the STI conversation comes to light.
One I’ve had twice before but now carries double the weight.
It’s not just me I have to worry about, and now there’s a tiny life that could be ruined.
The initial tests came back negative, which I know is a positive I should focus on, but all I can think about is the next three tests, spread weeks apart.
My attacker , as Dr. Jennings calls him, could have anything.
A disgusting, vile, piece of shit like that probably has a thousand things wrong with him, and of course, that could be one of them.
I’m pretty sure Damien stopped breathing a few minutes ago, his fear is just as crippling as mine, and even though he’s just as terrified, I know he’s listening to every syllable that slips from her lips.
His hold on me doesn’t waver, and his hands caress me gently to attempt to keep me calm, one raking through my hair and the other on my lower stomach.
If faith alone could heal me, then his hands would certainly do the trick, but unfortunately, that’s not how this works.
The pain is too present now. All of it. The mental, physical, and certainly the emotional ache is racing to the surface, and I’m just trying to keep it together.
Dr. Jennings, while having to inform us, insists that remaining as calm as possible is best for us.
She reassures us that right now we’re in the best place we can be for our situation, and that they’ll do everything they can to support the pregnancy—which actually makes me feel a little better, but I’m not sure how I’ll feel once we leave.
A part of me doesn’t want to move. I don’t want to get up, walk around, or try to get back to a normal life, terrified that if I move the wrong way I could hurt the baby.
Every physical ache is a reminder that even though we just went through hell and survived, once again, that things can always get worse.
I must zone out somewhere in the conversation, because the only thing that truly brings my attention back to the moment is when the doctor wheels the screen over to the bedside, instructing me to turn on my back.
Even with as injured as he is, Damien helps me but keeps his arm underneath my head to support it.
I feel like an infant myself with the soreness in my neck, but I know that it will heal with time.
Scars are the only things that don’t.
Dr. Jennings helps me pull my hospital gown upward but is careful to keep my stomach mostly covered.
While that’s a very professional and sweet gesture, I’m immediately sickened by my own body.
Nothing but gauze dressings cover my torso, and they’re not big enough to cover the bruising.
Blue, purple, and red splotch across my skin, and I can clearly see where I was only wiped down enough to be treated, because there are still streaks of red covering the areas that aren’t battered.
Bile rises in the back of my throat, but then she does something I don’t expect.
She grabs what looks like a baby wipe and hands one to Damien, giving him a look, like she knows exactly what I’m looking at.
Together, they carefully and quickly wipe the streaks away, and then she pats me dry before squeezing the cool jelly on my stomach.
I had to look away when they started, and now that they’ve stopped, I still can’t get the courage to look back, afraid that it will look worse than it did before.
It feels like hours, but in reality it's only a few moments before she presses a button on her keyboard, and the rapid, strong thumping of a heartbeat fills the room, making my heart swell with love.
I snap my eyes to the screen, forgetting about the pain and strain as I move.
It's there, and it's real—evidence of the life that we created together. Almost instantly, the chill that has coated my body since I woke up vanishes, and I can finally focus. She spends a few minutes pointing out some of the baby’s features like its head, size, and heart.
Then she moves onto specifics of my uterine wall and other details about the integrity of pregnancy, but I don't take my eyes off the tiny blob that's a perfect mix of me and Damien.
A part of me wishes I didn’t see it, but only because my fear has grown tenfold.
I can’t imagine not having that little bean growing inside me, and I know the loss would be unbearable for us both if that happened.
We’re both so in love with that little blob already, that just the thought makes me tear up again.
Forcefully, though, I bite my tongue to shut them down, determined not to break.
The doctor prints out a few pictures, one just for Ser, because she doesn’t want her ass kicked, and then they gracefully leave while playfully threatening Damien with the nurse coming back in to replace his IV. He refuses, of course, and then helps me turn back on my side.
“Are you okay?” He faintly taps my forehead. “Up here?”
“I’m not sure yet, honestly.” I reach up and wipe my eyes, desperately trying to wipe the rogue tears still threatening to fall. “I'll feel better each day I'm still pregnant, as more tests come back negative, and when he’s dead, I think.”
“The moment we leave, that’s where I'm headed,” he says dangerously, and I know he means it. I look into his eyes and see the turmoil swimming in them. His deep blues are nothing but violent waves, desperate to claim as many souls as possible.
“How about you?” I tap his forehead, mimicking his gesture. “Up here?”
“I’m fine as long as I'm with you.” His grip on me tightens and I feel the pain in my muscles twinge, but I can’t let him know.
He’ll pull away, and we both just need to feel each other right now.
However long we’ll be stuck in here is not going to be enough, and I can already feel the clingy mess I’ll be when it’s time we return to ‘normal’ life .
“You know this isn’t your fault, right?” I ask him, already knowing the answer, but trying to break through to him anyway.
“It is my fault.”
“Damien…”
“It is. I could’ve lost you. This makes it twice I’ve almost lost you because of what I dragged you in to. We could’ve lost our baby…”
“But we didn’t,” I interrupt, but the words taste bitter. “Haven’t yet…” I correct myself and instantly regret it. “You didn’t drag me into anything, Damien, and we’re all okay.”
He rears his head back like I threatened to hit him.
“Okay? You call this okay? You love me so much that you would just ignore that we’re both in a hospital right now?”
“Yes.” I say that truthfully. “Yes, I do.
I'm not going to think about ‘what if.’ I’ve done that my whole life.
What I'm thinking about is that I woke up to the love of my life alive , knowing that he fought whatever hell rained upon him to get to me.
What I'm thinking about is that he just offered to throw away everything he's worked for because he loves me.
And what I'm thinking about right now is the sweet little manifestation of our love growing inside of me. That’s what I'm going to think of.” He moves his hand to my face and wipes a tear that finally falls.
“Because I love you more than anything, Damien, and that means I love all of you.
I'm strong enough to handle this because you gave that to me.
So yes, I'm going to ignore it.” He plants his lips to mine, giving me a soft kiss that, for a moment, heals everything, and then he barely pulls away—not daring to further the distance.
“I'll burn the world down for you…” he declares with a voice so certain that it’s sealed in blood.
“I know you will, and I'll be right by your side, holding your lighter as you do it.” I wipe a tear from his face as we nestle our faces next to each other. We may be shattered, but as we heal back into one structure, we’ll stand taller than ever.
“You’re pregnant,” he says as a smile grows on his face, causing an involuntary one to grow on mine.
“I'm pregnant.” He kisses me again, then painfully moves himself down a little to kiss my abdomen and gently lays his head there.