Page 45 of Depraved Truths

A frown deepens across his face as he scans the chart. “Allie is in CT right now. She sustained a contusion to the temporal lobe, andshe needed a couple of staples. However, what I’m most concerned about is hemorrhage or cerebral edema. She was unconscious for a while, but she’s awake now. The best-case scenario is that she has a concussion. We’ll know more soon.”

I nod, attempting to absorb the information, but my mind is racing with worst-case scenarios.

“John, Allie’s pregnant.”

His eyes soften with understanding, and he sighs. “Yes, she told us when she got here. I need to let you know she also suffered injuries to her abdomen. I’ve ordered blood work, and we’ll do an ultrasound once we’re confident she’s stable.”

Just then, Sarah pops her head into the lounge, a little sheepish. “Doc, the patient in room four is back from radiology.”

“Thanks, Sarah.” He looks at me, his expression tightening. “Go be with her. Let me know if she needs anything. I’ll keep you updated once we get the results.”

I nod quickly and rush down the hall to the trauma room where Allie is being kept. Worry and fear churn in my stomach, both equally heavy. The nature of my job has always demanded objectivity, emotional detachment when caring for my patients. I’ve prided myself on my ability to compartmentalize, to keep my personal feelings locked away—but with Allie, it’s like a dam breaking. The emotions flood in, and I can’t contain them.

Entering the room, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. Her body, so still and fragile. Tears sting my eyes, and I try to swallow the lump in my throat. A bandage covers her left temple, swelling already beginning to form beneath it. Her skin is pale, almost translucent. She looksso small.

An IV line winds into her left hand, while a nasal cannula delivers oxygen into her body. The steady beeping of the machines echoes, a haunting reminder of her fragile condition.

I pull up a chair and sit beside her, reaching for her right hand. She stirs, and her eyes flutter open, clouded with confusion.

“Tess?” she whispers, her voice barely audible, but I hear the fear in it.

“Alls, I’m here. I’m right here.” I squeeze her hand, and we sit in silence. She closes her eyes again, squeezing my hand so tightly I feel the pressure all the way to my bones.

I’m awakened by a hand on my shoulder, and I find Eli standing beside me, holding a cup of coffee in each hand. He passes one to me, and I take a quick sip, and I check on Allie. Her eyes are closed, and she lets out a whimper before gasping as she wakes. The sudden beeping of the machine startles all of us, and she shifts her gaze, scanning the room, taking in Eli’s presence before turning to face me.

Fear flickers across her face as she grips the edge of the bed, and her breath comes in shallow bursts. “Tess, something’s wrong.”

A nurse and a radiology tech enter the room then. The nurse quickly checks her vitals, adjusting the IV, while the tech prepares for the abdominal ultrasound.

“The obstetrician will be here soon, dear,” the nurse says in a calm tone.

Eli’s voice is steady, but his eyes betray his concern. “I’ll be right outside.” He places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I nod up at him, “okay, thank you.”

I help the nurse adjust Allie’s gown, and my breath catches in my throat when I see the bruising blossoming on her abdomen, vivid and darkening by the second. The tech meets my eyes, a quiet understanding passing between us before she applies a thick layer of ultrasound gel.

Allie’s body tenses at the sensation, and I grip her hand tighter. Her knuckles whiten as she winces in pain. We both watch the screen intently, anxiety squeezing the air out of the room.

A knock at the door interrupts the silence, and Dr. Ross walks in, carrying Allie’s chart.

The moment Dr. Ross begins her work, I can’t look away from the screen. My breath catches as we wait for the rhythmic sound of a heartbeat, but instead, we’re met with silence.

“Dr. Ross,” I say urgently, my voice shaky. “Please, take another look.”

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay with my baby?” Allie’s voice breaks, and I can’t stop the tear that falls from my eye.

Dr. Ross adjusts the transducer, her eyes scanning the screen with intensity. After a long moment, she lowers it with a heavy sigh.

“Allie, I’m so sorry to tell you, but there’s no detectable heartbeat,” Dr. Ross says, her voice soft but firm. “Your labs show you’re suffering a miscarriage.”

“No. No! You have to check again. Please, it must be a mistake!” Allie’s cry is raw, a soul-deep wail that cracks my heart in two.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. There’s no mistake,” Dr. Ross says, her voice gentle but resolute.

Tears pour down Allie’s face as she releases another mournful cry. I lean over, my arms around her as I try to offer her comfort, though I can hardly breathe through my own sorrow.

“I’m so sorry, Alls,” I whisper, the words a feeble attempt to ease her pain. Sobs wrack her body, and mine follows.

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