Chapter 125: Taran
I bite down on my lip so hard that a sudden burst of blood hits my tongue as I try to keep myself from crying out. I breathe heavily through the pain, trying to do as Bishop told me, taking air in through my nose and then steadily breathing out through my mouth. Concentrating on my breathing, on getting through each contraction is distracting me. It's hard to concentrate on the problem at hand; Stryker's intentions.
It's clear he plans on keeping me here until the baby is born. But then what next? Is it me he wants or the baby? Or both?
I'm laying on the bed he'd prepared for me, in the corner of the baby's room. I want nothing to do with this creepy, weird scenario but I'm about to give birth, I can't exactly be picky at the moment. There'll be time later to mourn the loss of my home birth plan, with my husband at my side and our doctor attending. For now, all I care about is that me and the baby survive whatever Stryker has planned.
I really, really don't want to have to get Stryker's attention. After leaving me in the bedroom, he went out into the main part of the house "to tidy up" before the arrival of the baby. He mumbled some kind of apology for the abysmal shape of the rest of the house. Said he's lived the life of a bachelor for too long.
Still, I have no choice but to call out to him. My contractions are only a few minutes apart and I'm starting to get the urge to push. "S-Stryker?" I call out tentatively. When he doesn't answer I call louder.
Seconds later he's standing in the doorway. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to centre my thoughts. I have about two minutes to get organized before the next contraction hits.
"Stryker, I need your help," I tell him, though it costs me to ask this man for anything.
"Of course, Abrielle, anything," he drops onto his knee next to the bed and takes my hand in his.
I stare at him in shock. I knew he was mixing real life with delusions, but if he actually thinks I'm his dead wife, we're talking a whole other level of risk. He's already unpredictable without some kind of fantasy guiding his actions. I can fight twisted logic, I can't fight full on delusions.
"The baby is coming soon," I tell him hurriedly, trying to get the words out fast as the muscles around my womb start to clench once more. "We have to get ready."
The pressure hits followed closely by pain. This time I don't bother hiding the pain, I shout in agony reaching out to grip a fistful of bedding. Stryker takes my hand and holds it while the pain goes on and on. Finally, it releases, and I'm left sweating, shaking, gasping for air. I yank my hand from his, unable to stand his touch.
He frowns and reaches for me. "I'll take care of you, don't shrink away from me." His voice is a demand and I flinch.
I don't know the best course of action here. Do I play into his delusions, pretend I'm his wife? What happens if he snaps out of this brain fog and realizes I've been playing him. What if he attacks me while I'm too weak to defend myself? But if I don't play along, is he even more dangerous? Will he kill me for the crime of not being his beloved wife?
I want to sob at this impossible situation, but I don't have time. I have to keep my shit together. When I'm back safe in Diogo's arms, then I can fall apart, then I can cry at the injustice of a world that takes away everything from everyone, sending a tough man like Stryker into a delusional spiral. I can cry about the constant waves of misfortune that happen to me and my family time and again. To every family. But for now, I have to deal with this or risk losing the one thing I can't lose, my baby.
"Stryker... honey." I take a risk and try sounding like a devoted wife. I wait a beat for his reaction. I'm relieved when his face lights up in happiness. "I need you to get me some things. Quickly now."
"Anything, baby, anything for you." I nearly gag at being called baby. That's what Diogo calls me. Stryker just ruined the endearment for me.
I force a strained smile to my lips. "We need more blankets or towels, fresh sheets, hot water."
He climbs to his feet, leans over and kisses my head, his dirty blond beard brushing my skin. I shudder and close my eyes, trying to banish his image. I just want him to go away so I can deal with the next contraction on my own.
"I'll be back as soon as I have the stuff," he assures me and heads for the door.
"Stryker!" I call out before he can leave. He turns and looks back at me. "A knife, we need a sharp knife."
He frowns, his eyes growing sharper and I hold my breath waiting for him to snap out of his delusion and realize where we are. Best case scenario, he changes his mind and takes me to Bishop and then Diogo. Worst case, he kills me and hides the evidence of his crime.
Before he can ask, I say, "We have to cut the umbilical cord."
He nods, his eyes refocusing with the same manic energy. "Of course."
Once he's gone, I do the incredibly difficult task of lifting my dress to pull my underwear off. Agony grips me with each move I make. Thoughts are bursting through my brain at lightening speed. Questions, answers, worries. I feel nearly as off balance as Stryker. Is this really happening? Is it possible that I'm about to have my baby in a creepy little room inside of a hovel?
And how do I go about doing that? I don't want Stryker to touch me, but I don't think I can give birth alone. I'm going to have to swallow my disgust and allow him to put his hands on me, in places I would never allow anyone but my husband and my doctor to touch.
"Fuck!" I shriek as another contraction seizes unexpectedly fast and hard. The urge to bear down is almost impossible to ignore.
As Stryker comes flying through the door to check on me, I yell at him, "Get the stuff, Stryker! Wash your hands with soap, this baby is coming right fucking now!"
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
