Chapter forty-six

The red carpet went on for what seemed like forever. I felt like I was Dorothy, walking down the yellow brick road. Only there was no promise of a wonderful wizard to solve all my problems. Like the tin man, I wouldn’t be getting a new heart. And what’s more, I didn’t think I had the courage to face my problems like an adult either; I just felt empty and sad. Harry was probably still in there, having a fantastic night with all of his mates, bathing in the praise and acknowledgment of their successes while I hobbled outside, devoid of anything, even a taxi. I was wandering by the curb, looking for any driver that would be willing to take me away from here but none ever showed. After fifteen minutes of standing there looking around like an idiot, I decided to walk. I lifted up the hem of my dress, slung it over my forearm, and removed my shoes. My bare feet were far more stable on the pavement than the heels and the warm spring air prevented me from catching a chill. The streets were busy and I felt more than one stare bearing into my back as I made my way downtown in my evening gown. I could feel a cramp digging into my side. I winced in pain when my shoe grazed against it. My eyes darted, looking for a bench to sit and rest on; anything to lean on and help support some of my weight. Mercifully, I found I bench under a tree that was close by. Just a little bit further, I told myself, and you’ll be able to sit down. But every time I told myself, just one more step, it seemed to get farther and farther away. It was so much more than just a cramping sensation; it felt like I was being stabbed. The pain dipped down low and shot across my abdomen. My insides felt like they were bursting and erupting within me. The bench that I was racing towards started to blur and my feet no longer trudged towards it. Instead, I saw the ground coming towards me, as though it were coming up to meet my face instead of the other way around. My body slammed on the cold, hard ground but that pain was secondary to the one within me. There was no way that this was your common Charlie horse; something was wrong. My mind was scattered, unable to form sensible thoughts around the pain. Then it dawned on me: the baby. I’d never taken a pregnancy test and, in the aftershocks of the break-up, had never made an appointment to go see a doctor. I’d pretended that the problem wasn’t there, but now there was no pretending. But I’d miscarried before, and it had been nothing like this! There had been blood; so much blood, it was all I could remember. This time there wasn’t. Or was there? I strained to pull my hand out from under me and reached to feel around for blood. Grass, grass, everything was dry around me, but then I felt it; the familiar warmth of thick and flowing blood. It was then that I realized people had begun to crowd around me. I felt a man flipping me over on to my back and was startled by a piercing scream. I was more startled still when I realized that it had come from me. The pain was unfathomable and nothing soothed it. No position made it better, it just continued to exist and refused to waver. All the while, my thoughts were screaming at me: How could you? You could have prevented this! You’ve killed another baby! The sobs built in my throat and burst forth between the whimpers and screams that were a result of the pain.

“I’m calling an ambulance!” I heard a woman loudly declare.
Others stood around, just watching, and I resented them for it. The man that had helped me onto my back remained close beside me.

“Everything’s going to be alright, sweetheart, help is coming, and you’re going to be fine.” He cooed continuously, as though his words were painkillers; they weren’t. “Deep breaths, love, it’s okay, just breathe.”

“What happened?” Another man came over and asked the gentleman crouched beside me.

He shook his head.

“She just collapsed.” I heard him say. Tears obstructed my vision and the overwhelming agony was my main focus. I paid little attention to whatever they continued to say. The only thing that registered was the sound of sirens approaching. Medics immediately came rushing over with a stretcher. One of them bent down beside me, replacing the other man.

“Have you been hurt?” He asked me.

What a funny way to word it, I thought. Clearly I was hurting, but he made it sound as if something or someone were to blame. Physically, no, I hadn’t been hurt yet I was in pain, visible pain. Emotionally, yes, I’d been hurt in so many ways that it was impossible to convey. Yet how to answer his question? He didn’t care about the emotional shit.

“My stomach,” was all I could manage, gritting my teeth. It hurt more to speak than I had anticipated.

“Anyone know the girl? Friends and family may accompany her.” I heard a medic telling the crowd. But there was no one to step forward. No one. I felt doused by loneliness.
Other medics came over and they all aided in getting me on the stretcher and loaded me into the ambulance. One medic stayed with me in the back, administering what I assumed to be pain pills; they had little affect.

“It should get better,” he told me. I just shook my head at him. It wasn’t.
It seemed like ages before we got to the hospital. There was a flurry of activity around me, nurses calling for doctors, the medics trying to convey what was wrong with me. By the sounds of it, none of them knew exactly what was wrong. They eventually got me settled in a room and set up on an IV.

“This should help soothe the pain, dear,” a kind elderly nurse told me.

“Thank you,” I said.

She smiled back.

“Now, I just have to ask a couple of questions, alright?”

I nodded as she took a seat next to me.

“Firstly, is there anyone you’d like us to call?” She asked, pen poised and ready to scribble a phone number down onto her pad. I thought about that, was there anyone to call? Definitely not Harry, he probably wouldn’t even show if I did. The rest of the guys would inevitably just drag him here if I called any of them, so they were out. El wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, especially with Louis in town. Besides, they got such precious little time together; dragging them apart would be cruel. The same went for Dani and Perrie. Really, the only person I could call was my mother. She didn’t need the hassle, and I didn’t know if she could even get the time off work. Not wanting to cause her problems, I decided against calling anyone.

“No,” I eventually replied. The nurse looked perplexed.

“Are you sure, dear? It might be nice–” She persisted.

I gasped as another bout of searing pain ripped through my abdomen.

“No!” I said sharply – sharper than I intended – still reeling. “I just want this to stop! For you guys to find out what’s wrong!”

“Okay, okay, we will, dear, we will.” She said, eager to calm me down. I caught her analyzing my drip. She clearly was trying to ascertain how long she had until I was unconscious. I couldn’t wait for the meds to kick in, to be free, if at least for a short while. “Can you tell me if there is a family history of colon cancer, stomach ulcers, or appendicitis attacks?”

I shook my head.

“No, none of those.” I told her, I felt my head getting groggy.

“Okay, and are you pregnant or is there a chance that you are pregnant?” She asked after recording my previous answers.

“I think I might be.” I told her.


“Have you taken a test?” She asked me, pen poised again.

“No, haven’t gotten around to it.”

The nurse pursed her lips.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?”

“January twenty-third.” I answered.

She looked at me for a moment before writing that date down.

“Well, we’ll run the test, but seeing as how you are just over three months late, pregnancy could be a reasonable explanation.” She said, scribbling some final notes on her pad of paper before rising to leave the room. I reached out and grabbed her wrist – I was surprised by how weak my hold on her was.

“Then what’s wrong? Is it the baby?” I asked frantically.

She rubbed my arm, trying to soothe me.

“Dear, don’t fret, everything will be fine.”

“Then what’s causing this?” I asked again, I was not letting her leave the room before my mind was put to rest.

“It could be an ectopic pregnancy.” She said hesitantly. Good, I thought, we’re getting somewhere. This was a term I was familiar with. It meant that my baby might not have reached the uterus, that it was growing in the fallopian tube, that would definitely explain the tearing, ripping pain that I was currently experiencing. But they could fix that, move the embryo into the uterus, everything would
be fine.

“They can fix that right? The baby will be okay?” I asked excitedly, desperate for confirmation. But the look on the nurse’s face stopped my rambling and brought back my fear.

“Sweetheart, you should prepare yourself for the worst.” She said gently. “I’d call the baby’s father.” She continued softly, patting my head before exiting the room, leaving me alone, once again. On the edge of consciousness, my last thoughts were that of desperation and despair. My baby was dying; again.

Notes

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