I watch nurses rushing to set up heat lamps that will help regulate his temperature, all while I'm being told that our main concern is that Zeke’s blood sugar levels have dropped low enough to cause seizures.
Fucking seizures.
The rage that had been simmering under the surface explodes.
Turning, I make way towards the coward responsible for all of this mess. I’m ending this, and I’m ending it now.
Storming down the corridors of the hospital towards the maternity ward, hatred and anger fuel my fire. I have one loose end that needs to be handled, and once this has been dealt with, I have promised myself that we will move on from this. Carrying around all this resentment and anger is not good for any of us, and I won't expose Zeke to all this negative energy.
If all goes the way I hope, Jessa will have her wish, and she will walk away from our lives just like she has been threatening to do. I thought she was all talk, but she has again proved me wrong. I really had no idea who I was spending my time with. I’m ashamed to admit that maybe I might be responsible for her new level of crazy.
The only problem now is that I have to convince her that it’s in her best interest to sign away all her rights. This is the only way that Zeke and I can possibly begin to move on. I don't want this dark cloud hovering over our heads, having to worry that she can come cruising back in, stirring trouble any time she wants. She won't be on the birth certificate, and the papers in my hand will take care of that.
I leave my son with Amelia in the NICU ward, knowing he's in good hands. Amelia has a million questions about finding breast milk donors and about the possibility of her being able to feed Zeke herself.
I could tell she was feeling a little unsure when it was first suggested, but whatever comfort she could offer my son was a million times more than what his own biological mother was willing to give him.
My first clue that something wasn’t right should have been the fact that there was no security standing by Jessa’s door, but when she was with her doctors or the hospital psychologist, sometimes they were excused.
Not taking any of that into consideration, I force myself into her room, slamming the door open hard enough to crack the drywall from the impact of the door handle hitting the wall.
Taking in the room, all I find is a clean and empty bed. A chill creeps through my body, sinking into my bones. Not one thing indicates that someone was occupying this room. Frowning, I moved to the bathroom, not even bothering to check if anybody was in there. My gut was already telling me that I would find it empty.
What the fuck was happening?
As expected, the bathroom was empty. I walk back to the door, checking that I hadn't walked into the wrong room, but nope, I’m exactly where I need to be.
I find myself turning back around, once again looking over the room for any signs as to what was happening. It was like Jessa had never been here.
Jessa hadn't received any flowers, gifts, or had any visitors to my knowledge. The sad thing was, I didn’t know her well enough to know if she had any immediate family or any close friends that should have been concerned for her wellbeing. Or, at the very least, someone to be excited to welcome her new son into the world.
I squeeze the custody documents in my hand as my anxiety begins to rise, trying to figure out where the crazy bitch was. Just as that thought crosses my mind, panic hits me, realizing that she could be down at the NICU where Amelia was, to go see my son. That would have explained why she was nowhere to be found or where security could have been.
Turning quickly, I go to rush back to the NICU ward, nearly colliding with both the doctor and the head nurse responsible for the aftercare of Jessa. The looks on their faces stop me in my tracks.
“Is everything okay?” I ask in a panic.
“Sebastian, nice to see you, son. How is your boy doing? Zeke right?” the nurse asks.
Small chit chat right now was not what I was after, but the frustrated sigh I release as I rake my hand through my hair was enough to keep them around. “I, ahh, yeah. He's not doing so great right now,” I murmur, taking in a deep breath to calm myself down. “He’s experiencing signs of distress, but he's in the right hands now, so we’re hoping for the best. Amelia is with him, keeping him company. I did come up here to speak to Jessa though,” I add, indicating with the papers in my hand and making it clear that I wasn't here to check on her wellbeing. “Can you tell me where she is? Has she moved rooms?”