Page 60 of The Devil's Spawn

Through the pain and delirium, some part of my mind acknowledged they were coming faster and harder…that was a good thing, right?

No! Fucking make it stop. Make. It. Stop.

The pain was…I had no words for this level of torture. Nothing Gage had subjected me to had ever hurt this badly. Each contraction brought me closer to meeting our baby for the first time, but it was hell—an endless sentence to purgatory where a vise stronger than anything known to man clamped and squeezed and pulverized from the inside. I grabbed hold of the bedside rail, certain the power of my grip would shake that fucker to pieces.

“I can’t do this!” I said in a high-pitched shriek. “Oh God, Gage. I’m scared!” Wrenching my hand from his, I scooted to my side and clutched the railing with both fists. Pressure built between my thighs, rushing faster until it settled low in my womb. Instinctively, I lifted a leg, and Gage wound a strong arm under my thigh to prop me up.

Because I couldn’t do it on my own.

He pushed strangled locks of hair from my cheeks. “You’re doing amazing.”

“I think she’s coming.”

“She, huh?”

We’d decided to keep the sex of our baby a surprise, but I’d had dreams, and as crazy as it might sound, I was positive the universe had given me signs. Like the time we’d gone shopping for Eve’s Christmas presents and a pink sippy cup had somehow ended up in the cart. Deep down, I knew the baby was a girl. I didn’t need an ultrasound to confirm what my heart already knew.

“Yeah, she. And she’s coming…fuck…ohfuck…” The bed rail became my birthing partner, and I gave it another shuddering assault before collapsing again. “Where’s the doctor? I think I need…I need to push!”

Gage cursed under his breath. “The nurse was here a few minutes ago. As for the doctor…” He searched the room. “Baby, you can’t push yet.”

“Don’t you think I’d stop if I could?” I shouted, glowering at him, wishinghewas the one going through this.

He jabbed the call button a dozen or so times, but it didn’t matter. She was coming, and she wasn’t waiting.

“Gage…”

“Hold on, baby. I’m trying to get—”

“Gage!” Something unnatural hurtled from my lungs—a cross between a howl and a grunt. It was purely animalistic. In that moment, as my baby moved down the birth canal, I felt like an animal.

Wild, uninhibited, and human in the basest form.

A flurry of motion erupted in the room. Dr. Keenan rushed in, pulling gloves on in a hasty manner as a nurse readied the bed for delivery. Gage took my hand again, murmuring encouraging nothings.

I was in my own dimension, already pushing, despite the world not being ready for this child to be born. She was coming.Shewas ready, zooming to her first breath of air on her own terms.

“Doctor, she’s crowning.”

I glanced up at Gage and watched in complete awe as a tear slid down his cheek. During a break between pushes, I brought his hand to my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what?”

“When I said I hated you.”

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to say whatever you want right now.”

More pressure built, stronger than ever, and as I grunted, powerless to do anything except let my body do its job, I managed to groan a question.

“What should we”—another long howl burst from my throat—“name her?”

And he chuckled through his tears, a sound as pleasant as wind chimes, or as comforting as rain on the rooftop. His laughter soothed my soul.

“Sheorhe…you pick the name. You should definitely have the honor.”

Bearing down again, I knew this was it. I’d never forget the way our child’s tiny body slid from mine, or how the sound of that first cry was the sweetest thing I’d heard since Eve was born.

Our baby arrived on the eighth of May at 11:28 a.m.

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