by Bellus,HJ
“I’m not taking you to her until you calm down. They’re worried about the babies right now and she needs you to be fucking calm.”
My head drops and I cry like a fucking broken man. “She was bleeding bad.”
“I’ve never lied to you, son. It’s not looking good.” He leans down and kisses the top of my head. “The best OB doctor is on call. She’s in good hands.”
“Who hit her?” Rhett asks.
“Zack.” It’s like poison dancing on my tongue speaking that one fucking word.
“You won’t have to worry about him any longer,” the deep voice of Cruz rumbles between us.
Everyone takes a step back from me. “He’s a good guy.”
These are the only words I can manage to get out. It takes several more minutes for me to calm down before I can go to Chloe. My dad walks me through swinging doors and I hold his hand just like I did on my first day of school. The sterile smell makes me sick, but it’s not until we enter the ER room Chloe’s in that I want to vomit. The metallic smell of blood assaults me. There’s a nurse cleaning up her forehead tending to the wound and another nurse fiddling with monitors. A doctor in a white coat runs a wand over her belly.
I wedge my way into her side and run my hand down her cheek. “Baby.”
“Kip.” She sobs.
“It’s okay. We’ll be okay.”
“He took my babies,” she wails.
“Hey, hey, now. You’re here with me. We got this.”
My dad takes her hand on the other side. “Chloe, don’t drown in this. We’re here for you.”
She looks up at the ceiling and cries. She’s beating herself up for everything. Her fucking past seems to be intent on destroying her. A sinking feeling in my gut screams at me that it’s finally succeeded.
She doesn’t pay attention to the doctor when he explains it’s a touch and go game from here on out. Both babies have heartbeats, but have experienced a lot of trauma. Honestly, I tune most of the shit out as well. My dad keeps up for both of us.
“Bernie.” We both look down to Chloe’s face after the doctor and nurses leave. “Don’t lie to me please.”
My dad scrubs his face with watery eyes and just shakes his head. “Not looking good, sweetie. But Chloe you never know.”
“I want to die,” she whispers.
Thirty-Five
Chloe
Darby and Ava are at my side and Kip has never left me. Bernie made sure I was in a personal room on floor four. It’s a waiting game. There’s nothing anyone can say to dull the ache in my heart.
“Hey sweetie, here to check vitals.” A new nurse enters the room and quickly surveys all the faces. “Sorry, guys we have a strict minimum of four visitors.”
Bernie clears his throat, glances over his glasses from the corner chair. “I have approval.”
He taps his name badge. She’s clearly not impressed but jots down numbers from the monitors. I’m assuming she’s checking my vitals and not the babies. I haven’t been able to look Kip in the eye due to the massive weight of guilt crushing my chest. I’ve done nothing, but bring him pain. I tore old scabs from him making him relive his past, he’s lost hours of sleep from worrying about me, and now this.
I just want to die.
The blank ceiling holds my attention. There’s no desire to indulge in my friends’ empathy and support because all I’ve brought is pain to everyone surrounding me. They did nothing to deserve any of it. It was all me. For days and months, I’ve woken up hating myself but have figured out how to find the positives in all of it. I was a fucking fool for trying to believe any of it.
I deserve all this. I brought it on myself.
My voice cracks and is full of venom. “I don’t want anyone in here. Leave.”
Even though I remain staring up at the ceiling, I can feel their faces on me.
“LEAVE!” I scream this time. “Fucking leave me alone.”
“Chloe,” Kip’s voice cracks.
My head flies up from the bed. “Out, all of you. Get the fuck out. I deserve this. I’ve brought nothing but pain and heartbreak to everyone. OUT!”
“Baby.”
I sit up in the bed and come face to face with Kip. “Please leave me now. Leave me forever.”
I notice Ava, Darby, and the rest make their way for the door and I don’t stop.
“Kip, I said get the fuck out. You can’t love me. I want to die.”
He cups my face with tears welling up in his eyes. “No.”
I clench a fist next to my thigh, hungry to fucking punch something or someone.
“Stop, you’re breaking my heart, baby.” He runs his thumbs over my cheeks.
“I hate myself.”
There’s a crack then a break and I crumple. Sobs wrack my whole body and I cry and keep crying. I feel the deaths inside me and everything float away from me. I crumple forward screaming and crying. Kip never leaves me. He remains on the bed holding me, letting me scream horrible things about myself. I tell him he can’t love me and I need to die over and over.
He doesn’t say a word until my energy is gone and I remain a vacant shell of a body. Kip’s large palm runs circles on my back as I stay hunched over with my eyes shut.
“I’m hurting, too, baby.” His voice cracks. “I love you. I’m losing here too you know and if you run from me, it will be the end of me.”
I open my eyes and see the dark pool of blood between my legs and slowly sit up to face Kip.
“They’re gone.”
There’s no reassuring smile streaming from him. I watch my rock crack into a sobbing mess of agony. He drags me to him, lays me back in the bed, and we cry together for our loss together. I’m numb in his arms. Devastated and broken all over again.
Thirty-Six
Kip
After the doctor leaves the room and Chloe is being sedated and prepared to be transferred to the OR, I walk out to the waiting room. I don’t look up for a second, staring at the tip of my scuffed boots.
“Son.”
That one word fucking shreds me all over again. I look up to our family and friends and shake my head from side to side. My legs give way and I crumple into a heap on the floor. My fists blow into the hard tile below me blow after blow. My forehead bounces off it and I scream.
My dad holds me as I let it all out in the moment. When I remain still, he whispers into my ear.
“I’ll go back with her.” He kisses the side of my cheek. “I love you, son.”
Rhett and Zane pull me up into a chair, but I just fold over onto my thighs. Not another word is spoken while we wait for Chloe. Our dead babies are being extracted from her body.
I feel everything boil up in me again. It’s anger like I’ve never fucking experienced before.
“When is it enough?” I sit upright looking around. “When is it fucking ever going to be enough?”
I stand up and hold my arms up to the ceiling. “God, are you done fucking with us? Why?”
I roar, not controlling the level of my voice. Cruz stands up and closes the door. I don’t stop. The rage pours from me with no hope of survival. I go on and on until a right hook connects with my jaw and I’m pushed back down in my chair. Rhett wrings out his hand. Cruz is on his feet, growling in his face.
A hysterical laugh escapes me. I laugh so hard my fucking gut hurts. It gets everyone’s attention.
“Look at us. This is funny as shit.” I throw my arms ups. “I’m a fucking psychotic mess, Rhett you somehow think by punching me it will shut me up, and Chloe’s half brother is going to kick your ass.”
Everyone looks puzzled and I just fucking laugh harder.
Thirty-Seven
Chloe
How do you move forward when life has proved you don’t earn the right to? You wake up, go to the bathroom, and follow the other steps of life. It hurts worse than a paper cut, sliver, or open gaping wound. That’s right and you’re expected to keep moving on.
Life doesn’t care if you feel worthy or not, you just
have to keep moving. I’ve regretted few words of my life and even actions accepting them as a part of the cycle. But I can never take back the way I made Kip feel when I lost the babies.
I’ve tried to make him understand, but he refuses to let me. He argues it’s a part of the process. He shared his major meltdown in the waiting room and has accepted it’s all the grieving cycle, claiming it’s healthy. To me, it’s harder. I feel like a worthless piece of shit every morning. Kip makes it all better. However, I’m not sure how to kick that lingering doubt that I was only placed on this Earth to fuck everything up.
It’s a jagged pill to swallow, but one I’m forced to let slice my throat every single morning. The bleeding hasn’t stopped and neither has the empathy pouring from my friends. I hate it. I hate all of it. The only hours of my day where I feel any peace is in the dark held tight to Kip’s chest.
Then the sun rises in the morning and I’m forced right back into reality. It’s really a vicious cycle. I know all the righteous people roaming will tell you… “It gets easier with time.” or my all time favorite. “Just get right with God, sweetie.” Yep, all those useless words mean nothing to me.
“Are you still spotting?” Darby hollers from the other side of the door.
I roll my eyes and want to spew nasty words back to her, but instead I reply back with the typical response. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Do I need to go get more pads?”
No, I’d take a butcher knife to the jugular right about now.
“We’re good,” I manage to holler back.
I don’t want to see Ava, Darby, Bernie, or any other face right now. I need sleep, darkness, and fucking peace.
By the time I make my way back out to my bedroom, Darby is in a hushed whisper with Ava in the hall. I’m able to snuggle down in my blankets, take plenty of prescribed pain pills, and drift back to sleep.
Nightmares are welcomed at this point because really, what could be worse? I’d lose my future? Too late, never worth one. I’d become scared? Doesn’t matter anymore. Or wait! The best of them all…I’d see Zack and worry about everything. Nope, he’s crushed any hopes of a future I ever dreamed of. The fucker won.
So, I drift away in silent slumber into a peaceful darkness. There’s no worry of monsters or anything else that might scare me. I’ve morphed into the monster of my own dreams and I’m ready for revenge.
The familiar warm body is pressed against my back. Whispers of promises, love, and, hope wash over me. I nestle back into knowing everything will be okay.
“Kip?”
“I’m here, baby.”
“I’m sorry.”
The hair matted on my forehead is brushed away by a tender sweet motion of lips. I fall for a second thinking everything might just turn out all right.
“Do you still love me?” I mumble through my sleep.
“I’ve never stopped, baby.”
“Can I keep falling into you?”
“Forever.”
The deep baritone of his voice is the only safety net I need. I let myself fall, heartache and all. I roll over until we’re chest to chest.
“I heard you weren’t very happy today.”
I nod, responding to his question.
“Need to talk?”
I shake my head answering again. “I just need you.”
“I love you, Chloe.”
“I love you, too, Kip, but…”
I can’t find the courage to finish.
“But what?”
“I don’t deserve you. You don’t deserve everything I’ve brought in your life.”
He props up on one elbow. “You mean I don’t deserve love.”
“It’s more than that.”
“Really? “
“Yes.” I sob.
“I’ll never quit fighting for us, Chloe. Feel all the pain you need to, baby, but I’ll never leave you.”
My days are an endless cycle. It’s a loop that never quits repeating. I’m stuck in the center of it with one caring man to ground me each morning and night.
Thirty-Eight
Chloe
The dark color has vanished. No more bleeding and daily reminder of our loss. I’m able to wake up with Kip before he heads off to work and even shower on my own. Each morning at breakfast we sit and write in our notebooks. There’s no secret or hidden fears. We share our written words with one another. It’s okay because we both hurt and need an outlet.
“Twelve hour shift?” I ask Kip, who’s settled on the countertop across from me.
He nods, taking a large piece of cantaloupe between his teeth. The man aches with pain. It radiates from his every pore and I have no idea how to help him, but love him.
“I’ll be here,” I offer with a hopeless smile.
Kip leaps from the counter and struts straight to me. He murmurs his love for me and showers me in all sorts of praises. I have no problem offering it back. We’re both silently grieving in our own ways and soaking in our loss. With each morning that passes, I pray to a God that I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist that we can move on.
The clouds seem to cover the sun shining in the picture windows when Kip’s gone. I relive the memories one after another in my own silent hell. I’ve warded off anyone except Kip and he’s honored it. I’ve refused to let him quit the force. I want him there. He needs it in his own way.
The only solace comes when pen meets paper and my feelings really flow out with no fear of hurting anyone. Some days my hand cramps and other days tears soak the pages. But today my fingers finally find a keyboard and I let it fly; everything from the deep and horrible swirling emotions to the love of my life, Kip, and my sweet angels up in Heaven.
I type out three words in the blank manuscript. “He Killed Me.”
It’s the title, excerpt, and the whole concept because Zack won in the end. He Killed Me. He won the fight, battle, and war. A monument in his honor should be constructed. He’s the evil that took down everything worth fighting for in the world. “He Killed Me.”
Thirty-Nine
Kip
I never know what I’m walking in to. She may be fine, a sobbing mess, or fucking high on life. It’s always a gamble and you never know what you may get. I can’t judge my girl because it’s the same exact fucking emotions I wake up to every single morning.
Life is a rollercoaster that’s for sure and I’m experiencing every single dip and low. Chloe talks to me and I’m thankful she hasn’t shut me out completely. She has no problem letting me know how pissed off she is at the universe and how much she loves me. We talk every single night and when the sun rises. We share our hopes and fear and mainly our loss.
She’s never pushed me away since feeling our babies die inside her. Some say they weren’t our babies and just fetuses…well fuck that. Those were my babies and last night I was given proof.
I’ve slept like shit since the wreck, waking every few minutes to make sure my girl is firmly secure against my chest. Well, last night I drifted off far into the world of slumber and my mom greeted me. It wasn’t a bloody and brutal scene, it was far different. She was rocking two babies, one in each arm. A boy and girl with dark curly hair and beautiful brown eyes that make my heart happy. The smile plastered on her face stopped me dead in my tracks. She saw me but her main focus was on the sweet angels in her arms. Her chair rocked back and forth as she sang my favorite nursery hymn.
She blew me a kiss and went back to the babies. It was Heaven. Peaceful and full of joy, something I’ve rarely experienced until Chloe.
“Have a good day, baby?” I murmur against her neck.
Her breathing is hard and rhythmic, matching my heartbeat. I know she’s out.
“I had the best dream last night.” I close my eyes and tug her back closer to my chest and hope like hell I have the same dream tonight.
Life may not be fair, but when you find the one worth loving, it sure in the fuck is worth fighting for.
My eyelids grow heavy and darkness takes over.
It’s only a slight second before light appears and then my mother’s golden curly locks appear. She has two babies again and she waves me over. With heavy footsteps I walk up to her waiting to see the abuse inked on her skin, but it’s vanished.
“Kip.” She takes my hand and I fall to my knees.
I reach for the babies but feel nothing. Tears stream down at my face studying the amazing souls she has clutched in her lap.
“I have them. They’re okay, son.”
“Thank you, Mom,” I whisper.
Then sleep fully takes over. A piece of my cracked inside begins mending. My heart is light again and I just sleep. The sun shines through the windows and when I crack my eyes open and feel in the bed, there’s no Chloe. I look up to the alarm clock and notice it’s one in the afternoon.
“Holy shit.” I stretch in the bed extending my arms and legs, feeling each muscle strain.
“Chloe,” I holler out.
“Living room, baby.”
Her voice is light and concentrated at the same time. I throw my legs over the bed and stand, stretching out my tired extremities. By the time I make it out to the living room, Chloe’s curled on the couch with her MacBook tucked into her lap. Her fingers fly across the keyboard. She doesn’t notice me standing across from her in the open kitchen that faces the living room.
I let her pour out her emotions on the keyboard while I prepare us lunch. My stomach grumbles in protest and needs some damn food. I dig out leftover chicken from the fridge and begin to grill us sandwiches with it. I pour her a glass of wine and grab a beer from the fridge. I set our plates on the coffee table and go back for our drinks.
Chloe’s determined, still pounding away on the keyboard. I slowly approach her with our drinks in our hands until she looks up at me.
“That smells so good.” She looks up and smiles at me. “But Jesus you look even better. Delicious.”
