Chapter 12 #3
A rough sound leaves my throat, and my heart beats strongly, forcing blood to rush in my ears. Causing my brain to work overtime as I struggle to piece it all together coherently.
“Losing it. Losing Bumpy,” she grits between her teeth as a pained whine escapes her mouth.
Tears continue falling down her cheeks, and my heart swells uncomfortably tight. I tighten my arm on her and reach over and snatch up my desk phone to dial the police when full blown awareness of the situation finally hits me. It's like a slap to the face.
Oh my God. She’s having a miscarriage in my office!
Sarah trembles before going limp in my arms.
I don't fight it. Something shifts deep in my spirit as I sink down to the ground with her, with the phone cradled tight between my ear and shoulder.
My arms band tightly around her, arranging her with her back to me in between my spread legs.
I keep her cradled close and rock her, forcing myself to keep my voice level as I give out instructions to my office to the dispatcher.
My eyes remain tight on her while they assure me an ambulance is on its way.
Sarah's crying, curled over my thigh on her side, shivering and moaning in pain.
"I'm here. I'm here, and I got you," I murmur, pressing my lips to the top of her head.
I rub her shoulders, not able to offer her any reassurance about the situation with the baby.
From the blood staining the back of her skirt, there's unfortunately none to give.
My own blood runs cold when her cardigan slips, and I get an up close and personal look at the extent of the damage done to her back; small cuts and bruises mar her flesh.
She flinches when I brush my fingers lightly against one on her shoulder blade.
"No!" she cries out. "D-Don't touch—"
"Okay. Okay, honey," I hurry to reassure her, immediately withdrawing my hand.
"I won't. I just want to look, not touch.
I need to see how bad it is and to see how hurt you are, honey, so I can tell them when they get here.
So they know not to make it worse. Okay?
" I keep my tone of voice low and calm, placing my palm directly on the side of her head and rubbing, trying with all my might to lend her my strength.
She rocks against me in a self-soothing motion, wailing her loss.
Swallowing hard, I know what I'm getting ready to witness is about to break what’s left of my fucking heart, but I grasp her cardigan between my fingers, and pull it away so I can get a better look.
Her reaction is immediate; the wailing ceases, and she flinches, wrapping her arms around herself.
Her slender fingers grasps mine tightly as she attempts to grab onto my hand to keep me from seeing. Scared.
"You don't need to be afraid of me," I say quietly. My thumb brushes hers as I rock us gently, exercising patience. Her little whimpers are breaking my heart. "Shhh, you're okay, Sarah. It's alright. I just want to look. I'm safe, okay, honey? Let me look," I croon.
Small gasps leave her mouth as she pulls back slightly, finally letting me see the damage on her back.
"Thank you. You're so brave," I praise, squeezing her fingers and not letting her pull away just yet. "You're so brave to show me what's hurt you."
Letting her know that, even though she's trusting me to look, I'm willing to go slow. Make sure she feels safe.
But when I finally get her cardigan pulled away, my eyes go wide at the dozens of tiny cuts welted on top of huge blue and black bruises. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I look away, biting my cheek hard as I begin to rock us both now.
You gotta be fucking kidding me. Oh sweetheart…
Anger rises up in me so hot that it's a struggle to keep my movements slow and gentle so as to not scare her.
I feel sick.
Who did this to her? I silently rage. Outwardly I hold her calmly and rock her while she cries and cries, her tears soaking my arm through my shirt.
“Bumppyyyy. My little bumpy,” Sarah sobs. “I’m so sorry! I tried to get away before it was too late. Mommy tried, my love.”
I sit, helplessly feeling my heart break as I listen to her speak to the baby she’d just lost. I put my hand on top of hers that are cradling her stomach, squeezing her delicate fingers, trying to give her comfort.
The paramedics show up a few minutes later with a stretcher and strap her in. On her stomach, because I wouldn't let them put her on her back.
Sarah's so inconsolable that they had to sedate her to calm her down.
Feeling uncomfortably turned inside out, I busy myself packing up the rest of her things into her bag and grab her purse from the chair. Ignoring my phone starting to ping with back to back messages, my eyes sweep my desk thoroughly to make sure I'm not missing her keys or phone.
“You next of kin?” one of the paramedics asks, pulling my attention away as his gaze assesses me quickly.
“No. But she was with me when it happened, and I have no idea who to call on her behalf. Sarah’s a colleague of mine. Can I come so she won’t be alone?” I ask, leaning over to grab my keys from the drawer in my desk, before following them out at the man’s nod of assent.
Steadily walking into my future.