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    C. Henderson
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Lies We Tell - 8. Chapter 8

EMMA

“Oh God, I don’t know what to do. What do I do?” Cole stammers out in a panic.

“We have to go to the hospital,” I say, but the pain and pressure come so fast that I feel like Dylan is coming out right in that second. I scream in pain then waddle over to the sofa. “Oh God, the contractions…they’re coming strong.”

“Let’s go!” He yells.

“I can’t, I won’t make it. Ahhhh! Not with the lunch traffic. I’m not having this baby inside of a car. Call an ambulance!”

He goes through his pockets until he finds his phone. He pulls it out, relieved, only to find that the battery is dead.

“Ahh,” he says, trying not to panic me.

“What?” I scream, already knowing the answer.

“I just have to charge it up a bit.” He grabs the phone charger and plugs the phone in the kitchen. “Just give it a second.”

“I don’t have a second!” I scream. I slink down the sofa and onto the rug. The contractions coming without much of a break now. The pain is everywhere, and it’s unbearable. I think about my mother and thank her for what she went through to get me into this world.

“Let’s go,” Cole beckons, trying to help me get off the chair. But it’s far too late. The pressure is unbearable. Baby Dylan is coming, and there’s no stopping him.

“It’s too late, I have to push,” I cry out, and watch the panic spread over Cole’s face.

“You can’t! I don’t know what to do,” he stammers out. I take a deep breath, then grab him by the arm with excessive force, digging my nails into his pale skin.

“Look at me! This baby is coming, and he’s coming now. So get down there, and help me,” I say, then scream, “NOW!” For added effect. It works, he gets in between my legs and holds them with his shaky hands. I feel the pressure bear down and I start pushing.

“Oh God,” he mumbles out.

“What?!” I yell out, worried that something is wrong.

“Nothing, I’ve just never seen one up close like this,” he says.

“Seen what, a baby?” I ask confused.

“No, a…a vagina,” he replies, sheepishly. I roll my eyes then immediately feel another wave of pressure. “Ahhhhhh! Come on Dylan,” I plead.

“Dylan?” He asks.

“After Bob Dylan. I heard ‘It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue’ the other day, and he started kicking. I think he liked it,” I manage to get out before another wave hits me.

“Keep pushing, I think I see something!”

I reach my hand down and feel his head crowning. I guess they call it “The Ring of Fire” for a good reason. The burn stings harshly, and I take a couple of labored breaths and steady myself to push again.

“Hold me at the bottom, I don’t want to rip,” I tell Cole and his face turns ashy white.

“I’m not prepared for any of this,” he stumbles out, but places his fingers in the right position.

“Ahhhhh!” I close my eyes and start to scream and push. I push and push until it feels like I’m pushing all my insides out, and then I feel a wave of sudden relief and emptiness.

“I got him, I got him,” Cole says, and I hear the most beautiful wail erupt in the room. I start sobbing before I even open my eyes. There is nothing lovelier than hearing that first cry of life. I open my eyes, and there he is.

“He looks just like Michael,” I say, and Cole nods in agreement. I cry as he hands me the tiny infant. He is every bit perfect. And just like that, all my hate and any need for revenge is gone. Almost like it was never even there to begin with. Everything I’ve ever needed, everything I could have ever wanted or asked for and more, is laying nestled safely in my arms. “Mommy loves you so much,” I whisper, as Cole runs into the kitchen. He comes back with a washcloth, and gently wipes all the fluid off Dylan.

“You’re okay little baby, you’re okay,” I soothe him.

“Hi little guy,” Cole whispers, looking at the baby. I still can’t move as I wait for my placenta to be expelled. Afterwards, we cut the umbilical cord. I walk Cole through it, step-by-step, after having watched countless home births on YouTube.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” he says, and I nod my head and smile at him, exhausted from the ordeal, yet finally happy and at peace.

“You’re not calling anyone.” Cole and I turn our heads toward the door where you stand, holding a gun. “This ends today,” you say.

“What…what the hell are you doing?” Cole asks, and then time slows down.

The hate in your eyes, the pure rage at me disobeying you and uncovering all your lies is palpable. All I know is that I have to protect Dylan. I kiss him gently, then place him as far away from me on the sofa as possible.

Then everything goes dark. And just like that, I’m gone.

Copyright © 2021 C. Henderson; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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