Page 19 of Chain Me
There was no cry of triumph, in the end, when Dr. Martin settled the probe near my pelvic bone. No mechanical beeping to alert those nearby of the machine’s findings. Just a low, terrifying hum I heard even through my fingers. I was forced to press harder, shutting out everything but the steady, fast thrum of a heartbeat. My heartbeat?
My condition was more dire than expected if my heart was working so feverishly.
Seconds later, the pressure abated without fanfare. As if from miles away, I heard Dr. Martin murmur something to another presence who entered the room, their scent alone broadcasting their identity. Icy. Chilled. Winter. Whatever she said, it was succinct. Conclusive. As the material of my gown lowered, a soft touch ghosted my cheek and I let my hands fall.
“We’re done, Eleanor.”
“So…what now?” My eyes reluctantly opened to the white ceiling, blinded by the artificial light. I blinked to get my bearings, only to find Dr. Martin slipping through the doorway without so much as a word. But someone new stood in her place. My, what a difference a few minutes and tests had made. Silver eyes honed in on me with a chilling intensity that made me shiver.
“W-what?” Somehow, I managed to choke out a weak laugh. “What is it? How many months do I have to live this time?”
I was only half joking. From his expression, I discerned my condition wasn’t too serious. Even he would show some ounce of sympathy. Right?
“What is it?” My voice ricocheted off the ceiling, high-pitched and breathless.
Finally, Dublin cocked his head. “There’s fluid in your lungs,” he said, sounding remarkably unconcerned by that fact. “You’ll require treatment for it. You’re malnourished. Your bloodwork is a case study in critical values. And—” He hesitated, turning the full power of his gaze on me once again. Just when I thought I might shrivel beneath the scrutiny, he added, “You’re also pregnant, a little over eight weeks along. Congratulations.”
I focused on how he said that word first.Congratulations. No one in the history of the world had ever sounded less sincere. Then, piece by piece, I dissected the rest…
Eight weeks.
“V-Very funny.” I started to sit upright, coughing with the effort. I covered my mouth with my palm and flinched as warm liquid splattered it with every hacking breath. “I hope you got your laugh, at least—”
“Lie down.” Only then did I realize he wasn’t laughing. Or smiling. “I’m not lying,” he continued. “Dr. Martin confirmed it. She isneverwrong. Shall I phrase it differently? Your body is manifesting a growth of unconfirmed origin.”
Despite the insanity leaving his mouth, he looked clinical. He looked detached. He looked every bit like the calloused doctor who’d intruded into my life all those months ago and left chaos behind.
“W-What…what does that even mean? Is that your way of saying I have cancer? Some kind of tumor?”
Anything butpregnancy.In this case, the term probably served as a stand-in for yet another made-up illness. Perhaps a blood disease lacked enough dramatic flair, so Dublin Helos had developed a new destructive narrative in his quest for more souls.
“What will it take to ‘fix’ me this time?” I wondered, switching tact to cut right to the chase. My gaze fell over his hands, waiting for the moment he’d withdraw some magical vial from his pocket. “I’ll have you know that I much preferred the ‘degenerative blood disease’ narrative, by the way—”
“You do realize what I’ve said,” Dublin interjected, still utterly emotionless. “Do I need to explain it to you?”
God, he sounded too serious. Too real.Pregnancy, Eleanor. Reproduction. Spawn. Should I draw a diagram?
“I…” A million words welled up behind my tongue. Oddly enough I could only croak out two at a time. “You’re lying. You’re wrong.”
Which was worse? That someone could be so cruel? Or that someone could be so...stupid?
“You’ve made a mistake,” I insisted, settling on the latter. Felt through the thin hospital gown, my stomach curved inward, mockingly concave. Empty… As my fingers drifted lower, they struck protruding hip bones.
“Mistake, no,” Dublin said, running his fingers along the collar of his suit jacket as if flicking all implications of failure away. “I will say that the results didn’t show up in the normal range. However, I had your blood sample tested. Of course, we’ll do more conclusive tests, but the results strongly indicate… Well, I suggest you continue this discussion with the father. That might give you a bit more insight. I could bring him here, if you wish.” His eyes cut to mine, devoid of anything remotely compassionate. “Just give me a name.”
All at once, I fell back, striking my head off the edge of a pillow. The pain barely registered above a sudden need for clarity. “T-the what?”
“The father, Eleanor,” he said, enunciating each and every word.
Father.As in, someone other than him.
And suddenly his previous line of questioning made horrible, perfect sense.Who have you been with, excluding me?
“You…you’re serious?” As dizzy as I was, I felt the need to haul myself upright as I spoke. That question could only be delivered when I could look him dead in the eye. Piercing, fathomless eyes glared back. Blank eyes. The Devil’s eyes. “Are you that inept of how biology works, in your advanced age, or are you just that damn cruel?” That was what I said in my head. The only sound to register against my ears, however, was a moan.
“Enlighten me, Eleanor,” Dublin demanded, but his voice… An emotion I couldn’t name stripped it down to grated words and harsh syllables—a dangerous baritone I knew all too well.
“Enlighten you?” I echoed, still struggling to understand the challenge. “Perhaps you should enlightenme?” I coughed again but the need for answers trumped all concern. My lungs were collapsing. My throat caved in on itself, capable only of spitting words out rather than letting any air in. “How. Could. This. Happen?”
