Page 6 of The Final Storm
They’re coming.
Chapter 3
Dressed in White
BythetimeImake it back to the house, all I can think about is the excruciating pain. Hot knives push and pull within my body and paralyze my movements. The brush ripped into my skin, slicing my legs as I ran between contractions. I almost cry from relief when I make it back, but the respite is short-lived. Exhaustion washes over me when I fall to the ground, the clearing to our home just out of reach.
The rain comes down so loud that no one will ever hear me yell from where I lay, so I bring myself back to my feet with all I have left. I shuffle to the door and feel arms encase my body from behind. I go limp at the feel of Sam, knowing he’s found me.
He carries me into the living space, and Lori drops the mop she was cleaning with, running to my side. “Oh my God, Row. What happened?”
Another contraction seizes my body, and I can barely hold back the urge to scream. The boys may be somewhere close, and I don’t want to scare them. “BeLew?” I croak. “Where?”
“I left shortly after you did. I don’t know,” Lori worries.
“They’re on their way back,” Sam rushes out. “She’s in labor.” He places a pillow under my head and leaps to the hall closet, where we keep sanitized towels and supplies at the ready. Lori lays a sheet on the ground next to me, and Sam scatters the items on top. “Lori, find the boys and take them to the other house. Bring back Luke.”
She hesitates, giving me a pleading look.
“G-go,” I bite out.
She nods and then rises, sprinting out the front door.
Sam’s warm eyes met mine. His movements are calm and in control while I’m feeling anything but. He reaches for my hand. “Do you want the Stadol now?”
Gemma had some and brought it to us a few months ago. It’s for pain during labor, but I’m afraid to use it. I shake my head and feel the beads of sweat pour into my hairline. When the contraction subsides for a moment, I release his grip. “I don’t want it at all. It’s too soon. She’s too early. It’ll hurt her.”
Sam’s lips form a firm line. He busies himself unpacking the supplies, thinking over his next words when Luke comes through the door with a grin. He’s at my side in two strides, and I bend my legs at his presence. I worried it might be odd having him deliver, but I don’t give a fuck once I see his face. All I want is this child out of my body and the pain to stop. I’ll do anything, show him anything, and let go of any pride I have left for that to happen.
Sam shimmies off my panties from underneath my dress and then places a sheet over my legs as Luke dips his head underneath. “Sam, we need to wash up.” Luke lowers the sheet, and they both go to the sink, leaving me writhing from another surge of pain, a harsh whimper leaving my lips as I’m left there alone.
Somewhere behind me, I hear Lori come in and Luke instructing her to get some water boiling. The room spins, and I worry I might pass out. There’s a part of me that would love the relief of losing consciousness, but I need to stay alert to push. The next contraction feels like my insides are being ripped out of me, and I scream. They’re coming so quick, beating down on me faster than the rain pouring outside. I don’t think I have the energy to let out the next wail that escapes my lungs, but it comes and almost shakes the walls of the house.
Sam starts towards me, but Luke kicks him in the leg. “Finish washing up. One more minute.” Sam turns back and scrubs his arms, never letting his eyes leave my body.
I claw at the floor, my fingernails pulling back strips of wood. The women who can go through this with silent meditation or breathe through their pain must be high as fuck, because I’m losing control, and I haven’t even pushed yet. There is no fucking way they don’t have their body pumped full of painkillers and calmly have an infant ripped out of their insides.
Impossible.
But yet, I’m determined to suffer through this without drugs this time. Another loss will kill me, so if I die having her, I would do it, knowing that I did everything I could to ensure she made it into this world safely.
My heart aches for Gemma or any of the women from the island. They’ve been through this a few times already while we fumble around, pretending we know what to expect. Only Luke can help me, and he’s so sick, his face looking more withdrawn every day.
I feel Sam reach my side, but my eyes are closed through the searing pain. Luke’s voice is firm and clear as he gives me instructions. The minutes feel like hours ticking by as I try to focus on his words, but I lose time between contractions and then seem to wake up, being told to push again. My focus moves to the next step. Making my body push, making my body relax, and making my body get her out.
After another push, when Luke assures me I’m doing great, I find the strength to flick him off, and he tells me to stop and try to rest. “Let yourself pass out again, Rowan. I can take it from here. You’re done now. The hard work is over.”
I’ve been passing out?
The pain reaches a peak where it is present, but expected - almost normal. I’m accustomed to it searing my brain, and I plop my head back onto the floor. The walls become fuzzy, and I close my eyes. It feels for a moment as if I’m falling backward, and I jerk upward in response.
My eyes widen, and I blink in the darkness and silence that surrounds me. I’m no longer in our home, and I’m alone, standing in a cold room.
Lights flicker above my head, giving me glimpses of a place that is not my living room. My long dark hair falls over my shoulders, trailing down a white nightgown. I run my fingers across the fabric.
I turn in place, inspecting the steel walls.
No blood, no family, and no baby.
