Chapter 78

Olivia

I stumbled down the stairs with determination in my heart to not wake Nathan.

“I can do this alone,” I whispered to myself as I grabbed my keys off of the hook and snuck out the door. “I’ve been alone all this time… I can be alone for a little while longer.”

In my frightened, panicked, and pain-stricken state, those words made perfect sense to me. Perhaps if I had been more clear headed, though, I would have realized just how utterly stupid I was being.

The night was dark, a void swarming with every dreaded possibility.

My grip on the steering wheel was ironclad as I drove my car down the deserted roads. My body was in revolt, wracked with pain, causing my vision to blur at the edges. Each cramp twisted through me, intense and threatening, like a raw, unyielding storm.

“Just stay on the road,” I mumbled to myself, a shaky mantra meant to tether me to reality.

The dim glow of the dashboard highlighted the blood staining my jeans, a crimson stain on a tableau of terror. My worst fears were manifesting right before me, in visceral, relentless waves of agony.

I couldn't shake the thought from my mind — the terrifying possibility of a miscarriage.

Tears blurred my vision, streaming down my face, pooling at the corners of my lips. I tasted the salt of my grief, swallowing it down with a harsh sob. As my eyes filled with those tears, I felt my car swerve.

A gasp caught in my throat as I felt the jarring sensation of the rumble strip beneath me, and I jerked the steering wheel, yanking my car back into the lane.

“Shit,” I whispered, starting to come to my senses and realize that what I was doing was stupid and horribly, horribly dangerous.

But I couldn't stop, not yet. Not now.

At last, the neon sign of the hospital glowed in the distance, an island of refuge in my sea of pain. I swerved into the parking lot and practically tumbled out of the car. As I made my way into the emergency room, the hospital's sterile, overly bright lights were both comforting and terrifying.

“Help,” I croaked to the receptionist, leaning heavily on the desk. “I think...I think I'm miscarrying.”

A flurry of activity ensued, overtaking my senses. Voices echoed through my mind, but now that I had made the journey here, I felt the adrenaline seep out of me and leave me feeling deflated and weak. I sank down, gripping the counter for dear life, and let the activity consume me.

Before I knew it, I was lying on a gurney, being rushed down a hallway that seemed to stretch on forever. My heart pounded in my chest, a wild, terrified drum as faces that I didn’t recognize peered down at me with concern in their eyes.

They wheeled me into a private room. The fluorescent lights hummed excruciatingly overhead, making my head pound.

“The lights,” I murmured, holding my arm up to shield my sensitive eyes. “It’s too bright…”

“I’m sorry, Miss,” an unfamiliar voice said. “We can’t shut the lights off just yet.”

Just then, the door swung open. I craned my neck to see none other than Angela striding in, a nurse I knew too well. Her normally cold and angry face was now set in a mask of concern. My fear intensified at the sight, a punch to my already aching gut.

“Olivia,” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. She moved around the room with practiced efficiency, checking vitals and prepping equipment. Her eyes, however, were filled with concern that she didn't voice.

This version of the nurse was a far cry from the one that I had come to know, but there was something comforting about it. For the first time, I felt safe in Angela’s hands.

“My baby,” I muttered, my forehead caked with cold sweat. “Is my baby going to be okay?”

“Just try to relax, Olivia,” Angela’s voice carried over to me from across the room. “We’re doing our best to find out what’s wrong.”

I felt hands on me, needles, instruments prodding at me. Someone said something, and I saw Angela’s worried face come into view with an inquisitive look in her eyes.

I didn’t know what she said, the electric humming of the fluorescent lights were too loud in combination with the blood rushing through my ears, but I nodded nonetheless.

The next thing I felt were my jeans being removed, and my feet being lifted up into stirrups.

My body felt number and number as a pair of hands, one on each thigh, gently spread my legs apart.

“...Speculum,” I heard a gentle voice say over the lights and my blood. I understood that, at least.

Something cold and metallic — the speculum — was pushed into me. I felt an intense pressure that made me groan. More voices, more words that I couldn’t understand. The instrument was taken out hardly a minute later, and I saw bodies rushing out of the room.

One person remained, though: Angela. Her calm voice soothed me, and she dabbed at my forehead with a cold washcloth.

“It’s gonna be alright…” I heard her say, her voice echoing through my ears like the voice of an angel. “...Not a miscarriage…”

At the sound of her words, I felt intense relief wash over me. But it didn’t mean that it was over; they still didn’t know why I was bleeding so heavily, why this was happening right now.

Angela left me with a promise to return. I was alone with only my pain and my horrified thoughts.

I clutched at my stomach, a wave of nausea washing over me. A sob ripped from my throat, muffled by the sterile smell of the hospital pillow.

Suddenly, the room seemed to darken, and for a moment I thought I was passing out.

But then I saw him. Nathan. Standing in the doorway, his face a storm of emotions – fear, anger, and a helpless sort of desperation that mirrored my own. Angela must have called him.

He looked at me, the intensity of his gaze searing through my tears. I didn't know how he felt about me being here, alone, in such a state. I hadn't called him, hadn't wanted to burden him, or worse, confirm our fears together.

I regretted it now. I regretted the loneliness I had chosen, regretted the shell of bravery I had tried to build. I regretted all of it, and I hated myself for thinking that I could go through this on my own.

Nathan stood there, in the doorway, unable to move, his fists clenched at his sides. His presence was overwhelming, filling the room with a raw energy that buzzed around me.

“Nathan,” I whispered, my voice choked and strained with tears. My arms instinctively reached out for him, a gesture so simple and yet laden with a thousand unsaid words.

The room seemed to stand still in that moment, an encapsulation of all the fear, pain, and regret. All the while, Nathan stood at the door, and I lay there, a world of anguish in the silence between us.