Chained (14 page)

Welcome to hell.

Chapter 16: 
Only the Living Feel Pain

I don't remember much of the months that followed.  My belly grew and my heart shrank.  I rarely left my bed.  I no longer bothered to cry.  I no longer bothered to talk.  I couldn't bring myself to care.  I only ate because Travis said if I didn't, he would force it down my throat.  The cries and screams of the other girls became the background music to my fading life.

Then one day I bolted up in my bed, gasping at the pain that had lanced through my belly.  I sat there, shaking a little from the effort of sitting up, rubbing the tight skin.  The baby pushed back at my hand.  Thinking it must have just been a stomach spasm, I laid back down and let my eyes drift closed. 

The pain came again, and I clutched my belly.  The muscles tightened underneath my hands.  I'd had enough contractions to recognize this as one.  But this was different.  They had never hurt before, just tightened my belly for a few seconds and then were gone.

Was it time?  I had no idea how many months I had been pregnant.  It might be early, or it might be late.  The pain rippled across my skin again and I groaned.  My lower back ached fiercely.

That was how Travis found me when he brought my breakfast, kneeling against the side of my cot and trying to breathe through the pain.

He set my tray on the floor and sat next to me on the cot.  “What is it?'

“The baby,”  I muttered through clenched teeth. 

“It can't be.  You're not due for five weeks.”

The contraction eased and I took a moment to catch my breath.  “I don't think the baby cares.”

Abruptly Travis stood and walked out of the cell.  I turned my attention inward, pressing my forehead into the cot frame as the next pain swept through my body. 

My voice was rough from lack of use, but it felt good to groan through the contractions.  I had a momentary feeling of panic as I realized that I was going to have to do all of this without pain medication.  Then the next contraction came, and I was too busy focusing on breathing through the wave of pain to think about anything else.

It wasn't long before my atrophied muscles began to shake and I climbed up to lie on the cot, curling around my belly and grasping my knees with my hands.  For once I was warm.  I kicked the blanket off and pushed my damp hair from my forehead. 

God, protect me.  Protect the baby. 

This was really happening.  I was about to see my baby. 

And then I would lose them.  My heart quailed at the thought.  Maybe I didn't really have to have the baby now.  I wasn't due for a few more weeks.  If I could just keep the baby in, they wouldn't take my little one away.  Maybe I never had to give birth.  I could just grow the baby inside me until he or she was big enough to defend themself

Even in my haze of pain, I knew I was thinking crazy thoughts.  Obviously the baby was coming now, and I had no choice in the matter.  Tears streamed from my eyes and into my matted hair. 

I felt a pop, and wetness flooded out between my legs.  I looked down in astonishment.  I had forgotten about this...the part in movies where a woman goes into labor after her water breaks.  Well, apparently this wasn't like the movies.  And it was far more uncomfortable and messy than the movies showed.  Fluid gushed from me with each contraction.  The white of my gown was faintly tinged with pink where the amniotic fluid had soaked it.  Was that a bad thing?  I had no idea.  I'd never seen a birth in real life except for Jenny's.  I had no idea what I was doing or what was supposed to happen.  Here, there was no attentive doctor, no group of nurses chanting at me to push.  There was no husband to hold my hand.

A while later, Travis returned, and there was a girl with him.  She was tall, almost as tall as he was.  She had short hair that had probably once been a pixie, but was now a ragged sort of bob. 

As soon as she was in the cell, Travis stepped out and locked the door behind him.

The latest contraction passed.  “What's your name?”  I croaked, my voice hoarse from groaning. 

The girl looked nervous.  She had a ragged scar along her left cheekbone and a strange, ethereal beauty.  Her eyes were the deepest blue I had ever seen.  She looked like she belonged on a runway, not in a basement.  Even the pale nightgown could not destroy the impression of an angel standing amidst the filth.

I must be starting to hallucinate.

“I'm Rachel.”

“My name is Sarah.  I guess you're the appointed midwife today.”

Rachel hugged the bundle of blankets she was carrying tightly to her chest.  “I don't know anything about this stuff.”

I gripped the sides of the cot and breathed through a contraction.  “It doesn't matter.  Just come here.”

Rachel walked over and stood uncertainly next to the cot. 

A sudden contraction overwhelmed me and I cried out, reaching toward the other girl with one hand.  “Help me!”

Rachel dropped the bundle and knelt by the cot, grasping my hand in her own.  The feeling of another human being's touch gave me a surge of strength.  I had forgotten how warm people were.  Oh, it felt amazing.

Feeling renewed, once the next contraction had passed I started giving what directions I could. Rachel placed a cloth, dampened with water, on my forehead.  She held my hand as I groaned through the pain.

After a while I began to shake, even though I wasn't cold.  I started feeling nauseous, and panicky.  It was all I could do to keep from begging Rachel to go get me some medicine.  The pain was almost constant, wave upon wave with very little break in between. 

My stomach heaved and I turned away from Rachel to vomit over the side of the cot.  I was shaking so hard that my teeth were chattering.  Misunderstanding, Rachel placed my blanket around me.  I growled and pushed it off, turning away from her. 

The pain gripped my whole body and I sat up, my groan changing to a scream.

I felt as if my mind was separating from my body.  My brain couldn't stand the pain, so it was escaping.  I watched myself from the outside, watched the screams change into a sort of low growling as I vaguely felt a pressure growing, deep below.  I dimly realized that I had stopped breathing.  I gasped in, and growled again.  There was an incredible burning, and the pressure was unbearable.

I curled around my belly and bore down, pushing Rachel toward the end of the bed. 
 

“Baby!”  I panted, the rest of the breath coming as a shriek.  “Baby's coming!” 

I ignored Rachel's hesitation and pulled my gown up around my shoulders.  I no longer cared about modesty, or anything except relieving the incredible pressure that gripped me.  I pushed against it, only pausing to gasp in a quick breath when my oxygen began to run out. 

My heart was failing.  A slow pounding was resonating in my body, and my pushes were losing strength.  I cried out as the fire intensified, and drew in a deep breath before spending the last of my strength on one last, giant effort.

There was a sudden release, and the pain was gone.  The baby slithered into the world, greeted by Rachel's shocked cry.  I fell back against the pillow, panting and gasping for breath, my heart stuttering madly.  Spots swam in front of my eyes.

For an agonizing moment, all was silent.  I fought for breath, unable to move.  Nothing moved, not me, not Rachel, not the babe that lay still between my legs.

Then the baby twitched, and the echoes of those first, beautiful wails echoed from the concrete walls.

I laughed.  For the first time in months, I laughed.  I reached down and Rachel handed the baby to me, loosely wrapped in a towel.  He was bloody, and messy, and indescribably perfect.  I held him to my chest, kissing him desperately.  I held him as if I would never, ever let him go.  I cradled him in my arms, crying with a joy so exquisite it was something akin to pain. 

Oh, God.  This is why you kept me alive.  This is why I had to live.  This is my son...my baby...my perfect little one.

The baby cried, and I laughed.  So this was what it felt like to be a mother.  For a single moment, everything was perfect.  Everything was right.  I was happy.

Then the door to the cell opened, and I came crashing back to reality.  Master's hulking form stepped through the door, and my heart sank into my feet.  Travis, who had followed behind, stepped forward and cut the cord tethering the baby to me.

“No.”  I shook my head, clutching the protesting baby tightly.  “No, he's mine.  You can't have him.”

Without a word, Travis reached forward to take the baby from my arms.

“No!”  I screamed.  “You can't have him!”  Despite my efforts, my arms were weak and Travis took the baby from me.  “No!  Travis, give him back!  He's mine!  Don't take him!”

Travis handed the towel-wrapped baby to Master, who looked him over as I watched in horror.  With a grunt, he nodded to the younger man, who took the infant and left.

“No!”  I cried, pushing myself up on shaking arms.  “Please!  Please don't take him!  Master!  Please don't take my baby!  Travis!  Travis, come back!” 

But nothing helped.  The men ignored my desperate pleas.  As my weakened muscles failed me and I sank back on the bed, Master turned and followed Travis out of the cell.  The door closed with a clang of finality, and I listened with a frantically beating heart as they carried my crying baby down the hallway.

“No,  no, no,” I sobbed, the pain like a knife in my chest.  “No, they can't take him.  He's my baby.”

God!  You can't do this!  Bring him back!  You can't let them take my baby!  God, don't do this to me!

But no one answered.  It was only then that I realized that Rachel was gone too.  I was left alone, with only the deafening silence and the echoes of my baby's cries ringing in my ears.

I was left alone, with no baby and all the blood and mess of childbirth.  Rachel had left the scissors.  For a long moment I held the sharp metal implement in my hands, blade set against my wrist, and I seriously considered ending everything right then.  I pressed the blade to my skin, sobbing as the edge pricked my wrist and a single drop of blood beaded up.

Then disgust overcame me and I threw the scissors away.  They flew through a gap in the bars on my door and clattered against the hallway wall before falling to the floor. 

My baby.  My baby is gone.  He's gone.  God, why?  God, give him back.  Please, God.  I can't lose him. 

Oh, God.  My baby. 

I stumbled to the sink and the toilet and cleaned myself up as best I could.  Blackness floated at the edge of my vision, and I fought to stay conscious.  I was so tired. 

Just before the darkness claimed me, I climbed back onto my cot and collapsed on top of my blanket. 

I am holding my baby.  He lies cradled in my arms, nuzzling against my chest.  He is perfect.  His skin is pink and his hair is dark and curly.  His tiny toes are long and skinny.  His little fingers curl around one of mine.  He cries, and I hold him close to me.  I whisper my love to him, my eternal devotion.

For an eternity I just stare at my baby.  He's mine.  I grew him inside me and he's mine, and nobody will take him from me.  Travis comes, and he congratulates me.  So does Master, Rachel and Tanya.  They exclaim over his perfection.  They touch his little head.  They hold him, but then they give him back to me.  And then he sleeps, perfect as a baby angel in my arms.  I cannot stop looking at him.  I am memorizing every detail of his tiny body.  I will never let him go.  I don't care whether I am still a captive, or whether I am in a hospital.  I don't care if I ever see the sun again.  I don't care about food, or water, or air.  All I care about is that my baby is in my arms.  And the world is right, and nothing can take this joy away from me.