The floor opens beneath me.
I’m sinking.
Drowning.
I cannevercarry a child.
I cannevergive Colt a family.
The one thing I always thought I’d have was stolen from me in a single breath.
Oh God.
I’m broken.
I’m empty.
I clutch my stomach, now knowing it’s hollow, gutted in more ways than one. The pain is unbearable—physical, emotional, soul-deep. My breath comes in sharp, frantic gasps.
Colt’s hands are on my face, trying to anchor me, but I can’t see him through the tears blurring everything.
My body is buzzing, tingling, shaking.
Every nerve is screaming.
The ache in my leg, my stomach—it’s like fire ripping through me.
“I can’t… breathe,” I rasp, panic climbing higher.
There is no air.
Just heat and noise and grief.
“Dee, focus on my face.” His voice breaks through the chaos, but I can’t hold onto it.
I’m spinning.
Falling.
Shattered.
I open my mouth to scream, to let it all out, but no sound comes. Just a strangled gasp, broken and raw. My leg twitches. My gaze locks on Colt, and I snap.
“Cut my leg off!” I cry, hyperventilating, tears pouring like a dam has burst inside me.
Colt blinks, stunned. “What?”
“Cut my fucking leg off!” I scream, my voice ragged, wild.
He turns to the doctor, panic etched on his face. “Baby, why would I do that?” he pleads, holding my face in his hands, desperate to bring me back.
“Because that’s why you came in here!” I sob, the words spilling out in jagged pieces. “Because it’s infected, and you need to cut it off. So do it.Just do it!”
I’m beyond reason now.
Beyond sanity.
Because if I’m going to lose something…
