Everything sounded so far away. The police officers. Ben’s voice. Bryan’s body. I felt like I was spiraling as my back contracted without my permission. I groaned as my baby began to shift, my pelvis feeling as if it was grinding together. I was in labor, and I couldn’t even catch my breath to tell anyone.
But Bryan’s voice pierced my hazy thoughts.
“I need an ambulance! Hailey’s been shot!”
Shot? I was shot? I looked down at my stomach, my hand and dress covered in blood. I didn’t feel like I had been shot, though my back wasn’t happy with me. No, I hadn’t been shot. But this amount of blood during labor wasn’t normal. It couldn’t have been. With all the books I’d read, there wasn't supposed to be bleeding. Just a trickling of clear fluids if my water ever broke.
“I need help! My wife’s been shot!”
Bryan’s voice was getting closer and closer as my haze began to clear. I reached up with my hand and tried to feel for him, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. I got him to shoot his gaze down toward me before he helped me to my feet.
“No, no. I’m, shit, not shot,” I said.
My back pain was getting worse and it was wrapping around to my stomach. I almost buckled to my knees, but Bryan’s strong arms caught me. I could hear him trying to murmur something in my ear as people surrounded me, their hands lifting up my dress as they began to speak in terms I didn’t understand.
“What was that? What did you say?” Bryan asked.
There was too much going on at once. Did the police officers have Ben? Was it all over? My back pain started to spread again as another gush of fluid ran down my leg. It felt like I was peeing myself, but I didn’t have to pee.
I felt Bryan’s lips against my ear as he kissed me repeatedly. The foreign hands I was trying to push away were lowering me onto something. My vision was blurred with tears as pain continued to ricochet across my abdomen, rendering my legs useless as I collapsed.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Bryan said. “I’m right here.”
“Labor. I’m in ... labor,” I said.
“I know. I know. The paramedics are going to load you into an ambulance and get you to a hospital,” Bryan said.
“Is it over?” I asked.
I lobbed my head over and looked into Bryan’s worried eyes. He was staring at my abdomen. At the sheer amount of blood that was caked on my dress. This was too early. Too soon to be doing this. The doctor told me I had to make it to thirty-seven weeks. Thirty-seven was the magic number.
Not thirty-five.
“Is what over?” Bryan asked.
“Ben. Is it over?” I asked.
Bryan leaned forward and kissed my lips as the paramedics ran me off toward the ambulance.
“Bryan! Bryan! Don’t leave. Please.”
I held my hand out for him as he climbed into the back of the ambulance.
“I’m right here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. And yes. It’s over. He’s gone. The police hauled him off. He’ll be in jail for a very long time.”
The pain in my back began to grow. So much so that it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Things were strapped around my stomach, and an IV was placed in my hand. I could feel the bile of my stomach teasing the back of my throat like, at any moment, I was going to puke up the last nine months of my life. The room was spinning, and I had to close my eyes as Bryan continued to kiss the shell of my ear. My back felt like it was ripping in two, and something was still trickling from between my legs.
“This hurts,” I said.
“I can only imagine,” Bryan said. “Just be strong for me, okay? Be strong.”
“Why is there, shit, so much ... ah!”
My back arched as another contraction seized my body.
“Ma’am, you’re going to have to stay still. We have to set another IV.”
Another IV. Why?