He buried his face against her, his eyes rimmed red.
After a long moment, he picked up a surgical blade the length of his forearm and walked toward me.
When I'd swallowed that pill, I knew what was coming.
But when the cold edge of the blade actually split my skin open, the agony hit like lightning through every nerve. Sweat drenched the sheets beneath me in an instant.
The tearing, ripping pain radiated from my lower belly and flooded through my entire body.
I didn't dare make a sound. I didn't dare move. Not even a twitch.
By some mercy, Darrell's attention was fixed entirely on my abdomen. He never noticed the sweat soaking my forehead, plastering my hair to my temples.
"Darrell, hurry up!"
Rebecca stepped forward, dabbing the sweat from his brow with one hand while urging him on with barely concealed anxiety.
Then his fingers seemed to brush against something soft. Something small and tender.
Darrell's hands went still.
When he didn't respond, Rebecca rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently against the beads of sweat rolling down his temples.
"Darrell, I know this is your flesh and blood too. But think about our child..."
The moment the words left her mouth, Darrell's hands moved with sudden, brutal force.
A loud, piercing wail split the air.
Through eyes blurred by sweat and tears, I saw my baby.
Eight years. Eight babies had lived inside me.
This was the first time I'd ever laid eyes on my own child.
"Darrell, what are you waiting for? Do it!"
He hesitated. Rebecca pulled out her phone and played a voice recording.
"Daddy, when are we going to be together again? I miss you so much..."
Rebecca wrapped her arms around Darrell's sweat-soaked waist from behind.
"Darrell, our child is waiting for you to come home. Hurry up."
The hesitation in Darrell's eyes drained away.
He spun toward the screaming infant and lunged.
The baby's cries grew weaker. Fainter.
No one was coming in time.
I threw myself upright on the operating table. The massive, unsutured incision across my abdomen meant nothing. I rolled off the edge of the bed, hit the floor, and grabbed Darrell's ankle with everything I had.
"Darrell, what are you doing? This is our child! Don't do this!"
He clearly hadn't expected me to be conscious. He stared at me like he was looking at a ghost, released his grip, and stumbled two steps back.
I looked up at him, trembling, fighting to keep my voice steady.