“What… happened?” I rasp.
The nurse glances down at her chart, then back at me with the same emotionless expression.
“Well, you were brought in after severe trauma a little over two weeks ago and had multiple surgeries.”
I groan, sluggishly shaking my head from side to side, heavy eyes closing, still not entirely with it.
“How bad is it?”
“We removed as much glass as we could from your uterus and vaginal canal. You have a fractured pelvis, and needed a partial hysterectomy since there was too much damage.”
“Hysterectomy? I don’t understand.” I whisper, struggling to peel my tender eyes open to look up at her again.
She continues without pause, tone flat and harsh.
“You were also pregnant, Blaire.”
The moment the words leave her mouth, my entire world grinds to a devastating halt.
“Approximately thirteen weeks. Of course, the fetus didn’t survive that kind of trauma. Miscarriage was inevitable given the extent of the internal injuries and blood loss you had.”
I just gawk at her, wide-eyed and unblinking, tears gathering as a tremor begins to build deep inside my tense body.
“What?” I manage, barely a breath.
“You were pregnant and…” she continues to repeat, but everything else starts to blur around me, her answer murmuring into a dark haze.
It hits me like a bulldozer, and something broken escapes my throat, half sob, half cry.
My bandaged hand instinctively moves to my stomach. I press down, and fresh searing pain explodes through me. But I continue harder, like I can somehow bring it back.
“No… no, please…” The words splinter apart as they leave my mouth. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know I was carrying a baby…”
Tears pour down my cheeks, hot and relentless, while I stare into the emptiness in front of me. My chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking think.
The nurse watches me with cold indifference, arms crossed.
“Law requested you be brought home once you were stable enough. He said you’d recover better here.” Her tone doesn’t change. “You lost a lot of blood, and you may need more surgeries later for the scarring and… other damage. But the pregnancy is gone. There’s nothing left to save.”
It isn’t physical pain that destroys me, it’s grief. Pure, relentless, bottomless grief.
It smashes through me, shattering my heart into a million tiny pieces I’ll never be able to put back together again.
It’s the kind of suffering that doesn’t just hurt… it erases you.
It fucking ends you.
I start hyperventilating frantically before a sudden loud, broken wail explodes from my mouth, raw and animalistic, echoing off the walls as whatever remains of me finally breaks.
“No! Please no, not my baby…” The words come out strangled, drowned beneath violent sobs. “They killed my baby!”
I scream, tears pouring, the misery darkening everything around me.
I was pregnant with Law’s child—our fucking child—and he let them kill it. He let them reach inside me while our baby was growing there.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I bury the side of my face into the now-soaked pillow, desperate to disappear,desperate to escape the overwhelming, soul-crushing cries destroying my battered body.
I clutch my stomach harder, nails digging into the bandages as the loss devours me entirely. The baby I never even knew I was carrying... gone. Stolen from me before I ever had the chance to know them. Before I could hold them. Before I could love them. Before I could keep them safe.
