Page 136 of Delirium
“They’re not your kids.” I laughed. “No matter what you tell yourself.”
“Do it, Doctor. Do it!” she blasted, staring at me with enough venom to kill a person. But I was made of sturdier stuff than most, and her hateful little looks weren’t doing what she intended them to do.
“You were always a pathetic little thing, Ava,” I goaded her. “Always wanting what I had. Always running after the guys I dated, the things I wore.” I laughed. “It’s no wonder that you want to take my kids. You never knew how to play with only your toys.”
“Shut up!”
“You never knew how to stand on your own two feet. I mean, if you were such a brave person, why didn’t you ever try to find me yourself, to fight me, huh? Oh, I know why… because you’re too weak, and no matter what, you will always be weaker than me.”
“Shut your mouth,” she growled, pressing the barrel of the gun to my chest.
“You were always—” I started saying, when the cold metal of a scalpel pressed against my belly, cutting off the air from my lungs, cutting through my skin.
“Oh my God!” I yelled out, my back automatically arching from the table. The burning pain spread over my abdomen, cutting through the rest of my body, as the scalpel went from one side of my stomach to the other.
“Hold her down!” the doctor instructed. Hands I used to trust pressed against my shoulders, keeping me down.
My eyes fluttered closed, the pain ricocheting throughout my body, but he kept cutting. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, my screams echoing around us, while Tristan kept holding me down, murmuring soft words, apologizing over and over again, but I didn’t want to hear him.
Giddy laughter reached my ears as Ava crooned over the doctor, pushing him to go further. I knew I wouldn’t survive this. I ignored Tristan, biting down on my lower lip, tasting blood as the doctor pushed my cut skin open wide.
“Fuuuck!” I cursed, trying to push Tristan off of me.
“Hold her still!” the doctor bellowed. “I need to cut through this layer to get to the babies.”
“Get off of me, Tristan!”
“No,” he cried. “I’m sorry, Ophelia. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Fuck you!” I looked at him, hoping that my eyes would convey everything I couldn’t say right now. “I hope you will remember my screams every time you close your eyes,” I panted, wishing him a life worse than death. “I hope you’ll lose everything you ever held dear, Tristan. I truly, truly wish that for you.”
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. The sensation of something being pulled from my belly rocked through my body, making me yell out all over again.
“Oh, look at that,” Ava crooned. I looked down my body, where the blood covered my stomach and where the doctor stood, elbows deep in my belly, and Ava stood above him, holding a small blanket in her arms.
My heart raced, threatening to jump out of my chest. As I closed my eyes, a loud cry echoed around the room. The very first cry of one of my babies. The first and the last one I would ever hear.
“We have a girl,” the doctor announced, looking up at me, but his face was getting blurry in front of me.
“Give her to me,” Ava ordered. Like an obedient puppy, the doctor placed her carefully into Ava’s waiting arms, while the little girl—my little girl—wailed, her tiny arms in the air, thrashing in Ava’s arms. “You’re so pretty, darling.”
The doctor carefully cut the umbilical cord, tying it into a makeshift knot, and I felt that loss deep in my bones. She wasn’t connected to me anymore. She wasn’t with me anymore.
“Please,” I begged. “I want to see her,” I panted. “Please.”
Ava ignored me, just as the doctor went back to my stomach, pushing his hands into my body, slicing me from the inside out with the movements.
Ava’s voice sounded so far away, as did the cries of my daughter. “Please.” I begged and begged and begged, but none of them brought her to me. “I just want to see her,” I sobbed. “Please.”
“I’m sorry,” Tristan kept repeating, but I didn’t have any more strength in my body to tell him to fuck off, to leave me be, to give me my baby. My chest seized, my lungs hurting, trying to get as much air as possible in my system, but it wasn’t working.
When the second cry echoed around the room, quieter than the first one, I opened my eyes again, seeing the doctor holding another baby in his arms, the dark hair matted with blood.
“We have a boy,” he murmured, looking down at my son. My son, my little boy.
“Please!” I yelled out, pulling strength from deep within my body. “Don’t do this. Please.”
The doctor’s eyes filled with tears as he cut the umbilical cord from him and carried him to the other side of the room where Ava stood above my daughter, cooing and talking to her as if she belonged to her.
