Page 103 of Tear Me Down
She grabs what looks like a baby wipe and hands one to Damien, giving him a look, like she knows exactly what I’m looking at. Together, they carefully and quickly wipe the streaks away, and then she pats me dry before squeezing the cool jelly on my stomach. I had to look away when they started, and now that they’ve stopped, I still can’t get the courage to look back, afraid that it will look worse than it did before.
It feels like hours, but in reality it's only a few moments before she presses a button on her keyboard, and the rapid, strong thumping of a heartbeat fills the room, making my heart swell with love. I snap my eyes to the screen, forgetting about the pain and strain as I move. It's there, and it's real—evidence of the life that we created together. Almost instantly, the chill that has coated my body since I woke up vanishes, and I can finally focus. She spends a few minutes pointing out some of the baby’s features like its head, size, and heart. Then she moves onto specifics of my uterine wall and other details about the integrity of pregnancy, but I don't take my eyes off the tiny blob that's a perfect mix of me and Damien.
A part of me wishes I didn’t see it, but only because my fear has grown tenfold. I can’t imagine not having that little bean growing inside me, and I know the loss would be unbearable for us both if that happened. We’re both so in love with that little blob already, that just the thought makes me tear up again. Forcefully, though, I bite my tongue to shut them down, determined not to break.
The doctor prints out a few pictures, one just for Ser, because she doesn’t want her ass kicked, and then they gracefully leave while playfully threatening Damien with the nurse coming back in to replace his IV. He refuses, of course, and then helps me turn back on my side.
“Are you okay?” He faintly taps my forehead. “Up here?”
“I’m not sure yet, honestly.” I reach up and wipe my eyes, desperately trying to wipe the rogue tears still threatening to fall. “I'll feel better each day I'm still pregnant, as more tests come back negative, and when he’s dead, I think.”
“The moment we leave, that’s where I'm headed,” he says dangerously, and I know he means it. I look into his eyes and see the turmoil swimming in them. His deep blues are nothing but violent waves, desperate to claim as many souls as possible.
“How about you?” I tap his forehead, mimicking his gesture. “Up here?”
“I’m fine as long as I'm with you.” His grip on me tightens and I feel the pain in my muscles twinge, but I can’t let him know. He’ll pull away, and we both just need to feel each other right now. However long we’ll be stuck in here is not going to be enough, and I can already feel the clingy mess I’ll be when it’s time we return to ‘normal’ life.
“You know this isn’t your fault, right?” I ask him, already knowing the answer, but trying to break through to him anyway.
“It is my fault.”
“Damien…”
“It is. I could’ve lost you. This makes ittwiceI’ve almost lost you because of what I dragged you in to. We could’ve lost our baby…”
“But we didn’t,” I interrupt, but the words taste bitter. “Haven’t yet…” I correct myself and instantly regret it. “You didn’t drag me into anything, Damien, and we’re all okay.”
He rears his head back like I threatened to hit him.
“Okay? You call this okay? You love me so much that you would just ignore that we’re both in a hospital right now?”
“Yes.” I say that truthfully. “Yes, I do. I'm not going to think about ‘what if.’ I’ve done that my whole life. What I'm thinking about is that I woke up to the love of my lifealive, knowing that he fought whatever hell rained upon him to get to me. What I'm thinking about is that he just offered to throw away everything he's worked for because he loves me. And what I'm thinking aboutright nowis the sweet little manifestation of our love growing inside of me.That’swhat I'm going to think of.” He moves his hand to my face and wipes a tear that finally falls. “Because I love you more than anything, Damien, and that means I love all of you. I'm strong enough to handle this because you gave that to me. So yes, I'm going to ignore it.” He plants his lips to mine, giving me a soft kiss that, for a moment, heals everything, and then he barely pulls away—not daring to further the distance.
“I'll burn the world down for you…” he declares with a voice so certain that it’s sealed in blood.
“I know you will, and I'll be right by your side, holding your lighter as you do it.” I wipe a tear from his face as we nestle our faces next to each other. We may be shattered, but as we heal back into one structure, we’ll stand taller than ever.
“You’re pregnant,” he says as a smile grows on his face, causing an involuntary one to grow on mine.
“I'm pregnant.” He kisses me again, then painfully moves himself down a little to kiss my abdomen and gently lays his head there.
Chapter thirty-eight
Ashia
Four Days Later
‘Future Days’ – Pearl Jam
Carter went out and rented us a car to drive back. I was released this morning, and even though I'm not on strict bed rest anymore, Dr. Jennings said to rest as much as possible for the next couple of weeks. I listened to everything she had to say, happy that she was pleased with how everything was looking. I still have to wear the bandages on my chest, back, and shoulders for a few days, but everything else is healing nicely.
Damien signed an Against Medical Advice form so we could go home. They wanted to keep him another week, but he insisted that he wasn’t going to make me wait in a hospital for that long. I tried to argue with him, and told him that we needed to make sure he was okay, but it didn’t last for long. I think being in the hospital was getting to him. He's woken up at least once a night in a sweat from having nightmares. As stubborn as ever, he won’t tell me what they’re about, but it’s pretty obvious. I know he doesn’t want to worry me, but not telling me might make me worry more.
I know PTSD. I have it, and he's definitely starting to show symptoms of it. Yes, being taken was awful for me. I’ve never been so terrified, but I had the fact that he was coming for me to hold on to. I knew that he wouldn’t stop until he got me back. At the end, whereheheld me by gun point in front of Damien? I don’t remember that. He does though, vividly, but he won’t go into detail. The last thing I really remember was laughing in his fucked up face after he…assaulted me. After that? I just remember waking up in the hospital. With how badly Damien was hurt, I can only imagine the fight he put up trying to get to me.
As we ride down the road, I look over to him, and he’s leaned against the car door asleep, his hand still laying on my thigh. His coloring looks a little better apart from the horrible bruises from the explosion, but his breathing remains shallow, and I know that he’s still in constant pain. Those dark circles are still there, and he practically refused any treatment that required my bed to be moved.
The shirt he has on isn’t helping with the holes in his body, I’m sure. I don’t know what Ser was thinking when she went out to buy us clothes this morning, but I’m not sure a black, linen button-up was the best idea. The button-up? Yes, because it’s easy for him to take on and off. The linen material? Not so much. Though, he has the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, and it does look really nice with the pants she got. I suppose with it being mid-summer, the selection wasn’t much to pick from at the local superstore. She got me some white, flowy beach dress, and while it’s comfortable, it’s not something I would normally wear.
