Page 112 of Misted

Mist

I choose you. Even in my death, I’ll always choose you.

Past,

My eyes keep going back and forth. It’s black. Black. And more black.

I’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for what seems like days. My head throbs. My mouth is dry and scratchy. I can hardly breathe against the stabbing pain in my skull.

Something wet and warm runs between my thighs and down my open legs.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The events from the ally crush back. Blood.

Lots of blood.

Hawk!

I jerk up, but tight straps imprison me in place. I crack my eyes open and wince when a strong white light blinds my vision.

It’s The Pit. I’m in one of the white rooms.

Brown leather straps chain me to an Ob/Gyn exam table. My legs are wide open and blood continues dripping to a bucket below.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound echoes off the empty walls and slashes straight to my heart.

The rush of life that used to beat underneath my skin isn’t there anymore. I don’t feel the connection. I don’t feel anything.

No, no, no…

A guttural scream bubbles its way out of my dry throat and reverberates around me and all inside me.

“My baby!” I thrash sideways, but the straps hold me in place. “M-my baby!”

I shout and kick. Blood smears all over the white sheets, my thighs, and the papery gown covering me.

Please no.

My eyes close, sticky with tears as I pray and beg for all of this to be a nightmare.

Not my baby, please.

The door swings open and so do my eyes.

Clicks of shoes bounce on the floor before someone stands on my side. Dr Sloane.

She’s petite with pixie-cut blonde hair and malicious dark eyes covered by huge glasses.