Chapter 15 Cayla #2
I could see the veins in his neck pulsating.
His fists flexed at his sides like I was pushing him over the edge, but I didn’t give a fuck.
For the first time, I wasn’t scared. I was past scared.
I was done. There was a silence between us, but I saw it in his eyes.
A switch had happened. That rage he always swore he had under control was coming out.
“You don’t know when to shut the fuck up, Cayla,” he growled as he stepped closer with his chest puffed like he had something to prove.
I stood my ground, even though my knees were trembling.
“What are you gonna do, Orion? Put your hands on the mother of your child? Go ahead. Show me exactly the type of man you are.”
His jaw clenched, and before I could blink, he grabbed my arm hard enough to make me wince.
“Stop talking to me crazy,” he barked, shaking me like he was tryna rattle the fight out of me.
Pain shot through my arm, so I shoved him back with my free hand.
“Get the fuck off me!” My voice cracked as tears spilled down my cheeks. “You’re a bitch ass nigga,” I let fly out of my mouth before he slapped the shit out of me.
The girl gasped like this wasn’t the part of the story that she had signed up for.
“I don’t want any part in this—” she mumbled, sliding toward the door.
“Na, stay so he can put his hands on you too!” I screamed as I glared at her back, which was heading out the front door. I rubbed the side of my face with my free hand.
Orion’s grip loosened, but he didn’t back down. His face twisted with anger and shame, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hit me again or hug me.
“You are ungrateful as hell, Cayla. I break my back out here, and you talk to me like I’m not shit.”
I shoved him again, this time with all my strength behind it.
“You ain’t shit. You don’t know how to love anyone. You don’t deserve me, and you damn sure don’t deserve this baby.”
For a second, I thought he was gonna swing.
His fist was balled up and hovered in the air like he was about to use it.
But then his eyes flicked down to my stomach, and he froze.
I guess he was just now taking in the fact that I was pregnant, but the damage was already done.
I stood there, shaking. My arm was throbbing where he grabbed me, my face was stinging where he slapped me, and my heart was broken in pieces.
“You’ll never touch me again, Orion. Not like that. Not ever.”
And for once, I meant it. I couldn’t take it anymore. My chest hurt, my arm and face stung, and my spirit felt shattered. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and looked him dead in the eyes.
“You’ll never put your hands on me again,” I repeated, my voice low but steady. “I’m done. You hear me, Orion? Done.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t give him the chance.
I stormed toward the door. My heart was pounding so loud it drowned out his voice calling after me.
The night air hit my face like another damn slap, but this one was cold and sharp.
I stumbled down the front steps, breathing hard.
Every nerve in my body was on edge. And then…
it happened. A sudden warmth rushed down my legs, soaking through my jeans.
I froze, staring in shock at the wetness pooled at my feet. My water. My damn water just broke.
Panic shot through me. My hands went straight to my belly as the first cramp seized me. It was deep and sharp.
“No, no, no…” I whispered, shaking my head. “Not like this. Not tonight.”
Behind me, I heard the door swing open.
“Cayla!” Orion’s voice boomed, filled with what sounded like fear.
I turned halfway, my vision blurry with tears.
“Don’t you touch me,” I snapped, clutching my stomach as another wave of pain hit. “This baby’s coming, and I’ll die before I let you take this moment from me, too.”
I went to step down another stair, but the pain that radiated up my back stopped me.
“I’m calling an ambulance,” he quickly said before rushing back inside for his phone.
Slowly, I lowered myself onto the stairs.
I counted in my head as I tried to control my breathing.
The night spun around me as I heard sirens in the distance.
My whole world felt like it was balancing on the edge of love, betrayal, and new life.
All I could think was that this child deserved better.
I needed to find my inner independent woman again so I could give my baby girl the peaceful environment she would be able to thrive in.
The wetness soaked my legs, dripping down the steps, and my breath hitched.
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
“No, no, no… It’s too soon,” I whispered, clutching my stomach. Panic clawed at my throat. I had just turned eight months.
My baby wasn’t ready. Orion was suddenly beside me, reaching out, but I shoved him back.
“Don’t touch me! This is your fault, Orion! The stress. You sat there at every appointment and watched how my doctor said to watch my stress, and all you fucking do is add to it.”
Another contraction ripped through me, stealing my breath. I doubled over as tears streamed down my face. I didn’t know if the ambulance was caught in traffic or what, but I needed to get to the hospital, and now. Somehow, I was able to stand.
“Cay, you should sit back down.”
There was a concern in Orion’s tone that he didn’t have a while ago when he was trying to prove his weak ass point. When he was being petty, stomping all over my heart and shit.
“Shut the fuck up!” I growled.
I stumbled toward my truck. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely get the door open.
“Get me to the hospital,” I cried, my voice breaking. “Please… just drive.”
It was the least he could do, considering that all of this was his fault. The ride was a blur. The streetlights smeared into streaks of gold through my tears, and my nails dug into the seat with every wave of pain. All I could do was whisper prayers between sobs.
“Please, God… don’t take her from me. Not like this.”
The pain was too much to the point of being scary.
I was early, so of course, I wondered if I was losing my baby instead of giving life to her.
By the time we pulled up to the ER, nurses were already rushing with a wheelchair.
On the ride, Orion had called the hospital himself to give them the heads-up.
My legs were weak, and my body was trembling.
“She’s too early,” I gasped as they wheeled me inside. “I’m eight months… my baby’s not ready.”
The bright lights, the cold hallways, and the rush of medical voices all blurred together. I barely registered Orion’s shadow pacing outside the room while doctors worked around me. My world narrowed to pain, fear, and the sound of the fetal monitor racing against time.
Hours later, when the cries finally came, small, fragile, but alive, I broke completely.
“A girl,” the doctor said softly, laying the tiniest bundle I’d ever seen into an incubator.
At my last appointment, my doctor already told me that Oriana was small.
Which I didn’t understand because I ate everything I laid eyes on.
Tubes, wires, and machines all surrounded her, but she was here.
When the nurses pushed the incubator over to my side, I pressed my hand to the glass while sobbing.
“Mommy’s here, baby. Mommy’s right here. I swear I’ll fight for you with everything in me.”
And in that moment, looking at her tiny chest rise and fall, I knew one thing for sure: I’d never let Orion’s chaos break us again.
I delivered her early because of this bullshit.
Before I gave birth, they were asking me if I wanted him in the room, and I told them no.
Just looking at him caused my blood pressure to rise.
I felt it. They allowed him in the room after everything was settled.
At that point, I was too exhausted to even protest.