And that’s what will happen. I’m not a happy person. I don’t find life to be an adventure. I’m not inspired or excited for the future.
Because there’s no way I can let go of the past.
I watch, waiting for Mariah to pick up her phone so I know she got my message. It’s face up on the marble at her elbow, so I even see the screen illuminate when it goes through.
But Mariah doesn’t react. She just stands at the counter, staring down at the surface. I can barely see the motion of her shoulders lifting and falling as she breathes, but other than that she’s still.
Too still.
And then she’s not. Her frame drifts one way and then the other as she slowly blinks.
That’s when recognition hits. Slams into me harder than a freight train barreling up from the depths of my memories.
“Shit.” I don’t think, just react.
Spinning away from the screen is painful because I won’t have my eyes on her, but it’s a necessary evil. Mariah is about to go down, and I know better than anyone how dangerous that can be.
Flinging open the door to my room, I race down the hall and descend the stairs, my feet barely contacting the steps.
I’m still not fast enough.
I reach the first floor just in time to watch Mariah’s eyes roll back and hear the heavy thud of her unconscious body hitting the wood floor.
9
Mariah
For the millionth time, I try to wrap my head around the task at hand. The whole reason I’m here. I need to feed Titus breakfast. But for some reason, my brain can’t seem to compute the steps required.
I feel off this morning. Weird in a way I can’t explain. Like nothing is real and the world and I are two separate entities. I’m stuck in a fog of alternate reality I can’t quite make my way out of.
I came downstairs thinking tea might help, but now that I’m here, I can’t stomach the thought of it. I can’t make myself eat any of the crackers I normally depend on either. Thankfully, I don’t feel like throwing up. I just feel…
Wrong.
It’s probably pregnancy related, so I keep trying to get my shit together. This is my life now—and for the next almost seven months—so I’ve got to figure out a way to deal with it.
It takes way more effort than normal to think of what to make for breakfast. I swear I had a plan when I went to bed last night, but I can’t quite remember. It was probably brilliant too. Would have been the best dish I’ve ever created.
The skin on my face is suddenly very cold and a weird weakness takes over my limbs, forcing me to lean against the counter asI pull in deep breaths. I can’t keep going like this. I’ve got to figure out a solution.
Even though putting something in my stomach isn’t the least bit appealing, I pull out a pouch of ginger tea. Maybe this is just a different version of morning sickness. One I haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing before.
I sure as heck hope not. It’s going to be really hard to keep my pregnancy on the down low if I start feeling like this on a regular basis.
As if the universe wants to confirm my concerns, Titus sends me a text, asking if I’m okay. Forcing on a smile, I give the camera I know he’s watching me through a thumbs up. And holy shit does it take a lot of effort. The act seems to burn the last of what little energy I brought downstairs with me this morning.
I’m going to have to go back to bed as soon as I’m done cooking. It’s the only option I have. Because if I don’t, I’m going to freaking collapse. I should be able to get at least an hour or two of rest in. Hopefully it will help ease whatever awful symptom this is.
Once my tea is done, I go back to leaning against the counter, staring down into the steaming concoction as I work up the motivation to take a sip. I know I should, but the weakness in my limbs is back, only now they also feel ridiculously heavy. Like I couldn’t lift my hand even if I tried.
The sound of my cell phone receiving another text message vaguely registers as the room around me starts getting darker. Like the sun is sliding behind a cloud, which is strange since the sky was clear just a few seconds ago.
It keeps getting darker as thunder rumbles through the house. Loud and heavy. The sign of a storm moving in.
I blink my eyes hard as everything gets blurry. Out of focus.
It’s not until needles prickle across my skin that I recognize what’s happening. There’s no storm. No clouds. No thunder.
