“Maya,” the voice was deep, resonant, and clipped.
“Dad,” I sobbed, clutching my stomach, curling into a fetal position on the wet, bloody floor. “Dad, help me.”
There was no intake of breath. No panicked questions of “What’s wrong?” Arthur Vance, a retired Four-Star Military General who had spent thirty years commanding theaters of war, did not deal in panic. He dealt in logistics.
“Location,” Arthur’s voice barked through the phone, sharp and commanding, instantly shifting from father to commander.
“Home,” I gasped, the darkness creeping further into my vision. “I’m bleeding, Dad. So much blood. The baby…”
“Sitrep understood,” Arthur said. The sound of a heavy truck engine roaring to life echoed through the receiver. “I am ten minutes away. Apply pressure if you can. Breathe. Hold on, soldier.”
The line went dead.
I dropped the phone. The pain was becoming a distant, muted roar, replaced by a terrifying, cold numbness creeping up my limbs. Through the fading light of the living room, I could see Helen standing up, carefully stepping around the growing pool of my blood.
“I’m going to call a cleaning service,” she muttered, her face pinched in disgust. “This is going to stain.”
I closed my eyes, letting the darkness take me, praying that my father drove fast.
2. The Sterile Room
The steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the sterile Emergency Room. The air smelled of iodine and bleach. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with a low, annoying frequency that seemed to vibrate directly inside my skull.
I was lying in a hospital bed, staring blankly at the acoustic tiles on the ceiling. I felt hollowed out. Physically, emotionally, spiritually empty.
To my left, the ultrasound machine had been pushed against the wall. Its screen was dark. A few hours ago, that screen had displayed the frantic, silent search of the ER doctor tracing the wand over my abdomen. I had watched the doctor’s face fall. I had watched the nurse avert her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Maya,” the young doctor had whispered, placing a gentle hand on my knee. “There is no heartbeat.”
The words had triggered a silent, internal explosion.
“What happened?” a voice had demanded from the corner of the room.