After he places his customary kiss to my forehead and turns around to sleep I let the tears fall. His gentle snores reassuring me he is asleep, that it is now okay to let the shame and guilt flood the mattress.
Every time my child kicks inside my womb, every time I have to wake up to go to the toilet because of the pressure its head is putting on my bladder, I am reminded. I hate myself with a new raw disgust, David would turn his face from me, Lisa and Carl would probably turn their backs on me as well, not allowing me to see my new little foster sister Lily, and Leighton, oh God what have I done?
I sit on the tiled floor of our bathroom and cry fiercely, tears of shame for the whore I am, the stupid little slut who fucks her fiancé’s number one enemy, for fucking the bastard that nearly killed my best friend and brother.
I finally crawl back into my bed at gone two in the morning and close my eyes, feeling numb and tearless.
I am numb, all day every day. My first Christmas with Leighton has come and gone. Antonio is out of hospital and being cared for by Debbie and Maria non-stop. I am sure the mollycoddling is probably driving him completely crazy right now.
Leighton, as usual, has continued to buy me the most amazing gifts, perfect little presents that melt my heart every time. He has been the most attentive man in the world, giving me his usual foot and back rubs every day to ease the muscle and joint pain from the probably now twenty pound baby nestled in my womb.
I have begun to get Braxton hicks, they are fucking agonising. The worst pain I have ever felt. I am assured they are normal, but nothing compared to the real pain of child birth. That idea only makes me shit myself that much more.
It is now two weeks until my due date, and up to this point, even during sex, I have managed to conceal the wound on my stomach. I still have to dress it to stop it seeping onto my clothes. It still causes me pain under the heat of the shower or in the bath. It has gradually begun to heal, but the top layers are still delicate and keep tearing and reopening, I should have had it stitched but I don’t want anyone to know about it, to know the disgusting secrets I hide inside of my heart.
I am lying in the bath on Sunday evening, relaxing my body and reading a book on my e-reader. Some crap lovey-dovey, hearts and roses book. It makes me want to throw up. No one has such a perfect life, the world isn’t that kind. I had it once but things aren’t going to be like that anymore. There is always something or someone to upset the balance of things.
I have a soothing rock ballad playing in the background, Bon Jovi’s voice is filtering through singing one of my all-time favourites ‘Always’. Someone would think I am an emotional masochist to keep putting myself through all this psychological bullshit at the worst time of my life. Words of a song or a line in a novel reminds me once again that I have to get out of this funk, Leighton doesn’t know, he will never know. I have come to the decision that I wasn’t going to tell him, it hasn’t made a difference what I have done; Phillip and his group of bastards are still going to continue, so there is no point making the situation worse by telling him.
I place my e-reader on the counter beside the bath and slip under the warm water to wet my hair, preparing to wash it, the water covering everywhere but my nose, mouth and mammoth bump that is currently bobbing in the water. The liquid freshness does wonders to my skin, opening my pores and waking me.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABIGAIL!?” I hear the shout from under the water, causing me to jump up and open my eyes. Leighton’s hands are fisted at his side as he stands beside the tub, the water sloshing ever the bath edge onto the tiled floor.
“What’s what?” I try to remain calm knowing exactly what he is talking about. My stomach is clearly visible from beneath the water. The four inch laceration across the right side of my stomach is in eye shot.
I place my hand over the wound trying to hide it. Leighton’s hand reaches out and grabs my own, yanking it aside. “What is that?” I can see the anger behind his eyes and words, he is trying to keep cool but I know he wants to punch something.
“I, I, I…” I try to make up a story in my head as quick as possible.
“You what Abigail, YOU FUCKING WHAT! TELL ME. COZ I’D LOVE TO FUCKING KNOW WHY MY FIANCÉE HAS A FUCKING SLICE ACROSS HER STOMACH. THE STOMACH THAT HAS MY FUCKING CHILD IN,” he shouts at me, the deep growl behind it scaring the living shit out of me.
“I, erm, slipped, whilst cutting veg, the knife cut me, it’s no big deal.” Fuck this is going bad very quickly. I have no way of hiding this; I just hope he believes my lie.
Leighton’s arms dip into the bath bringing one beneath my legs, under my knees. The other supports my back as he easily lifts me from the water and walks me across the room. The water was pouring from me onto the marble. I am just praying Leighton doesn’t slip at this point in time.
He places me on the bed gently, and then clasps my jaw in his hand. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to make me look at him.
My chest is tightening and I am finding it hard to breath. I have a real bad feeling that shit is going to hit the fan right this second, I hadn’t predicted it or believed it would happen so soon, if at all. My body is shaking uncontrollably, my breathing laboured and shallow, my stomach is causing me agony as another Braxton-Hicks hits full force.
“Fuck, argh, shit, that hurts.” I clasp my stomach, bending at the waist to try and relieve some of the discomfort.
“Don’t do that Abigail, don’t fucking deflect. Now tell me the fucking truth.” He isn’t listening to my cries, he thinks I am avoiding answering him. I wish I could reassure him I was in pain, that I wasn’t avoiding him, but in some ways I am thankful for the false contraction at this point, anything to get out of Leighton’s wrath zone.
“Leighton, please, it hurts so fucking bad.” As I go to stand a gush of water falls from between my legs and smothers the floor. “Oh God, I think I wet myself.” How bloody embarrassing, of all times for the baby to kick my bladder, it has to be when Leighton will see. I feel my cheeks flush pink as he stares at the puddle on the floor, a cloudy white tinge to the fluid. That isn’t normal I know for sure.
“Abbi, I don’t think that’s wee baby, I think that is your waters breaking.” His appearance changes instantly, the smile on his face replacing the anger and outrage. He is so ready for this, he has been on a continuous buzz the last two weeks preparing for our little baby to join the world.
“No, it can’t be, it’s too early.” God, the pain is unbearable.
I scream out as my first proper contraction hits me, the white hot burning pain soars through my womb to my cervix.
“You’ll be fine Angel. Let me get you dressed so we can get to the hospital.” He starts fussing around finding a cotton nightdress for me to wear, it is night-time after all.
“Leighton, Lisa isn’t here, aww fuck, ouch, pain, fuck, pain!” I breathe through the pain, Leighton rubs my back in big circles to try and reduce the agonising stretch within me.
“Breathe, in, out, in, out.” He mimics the breaths for me to copy, the same as we had learnt in our classes.
I follow his lead, controlling my intake and outtake of oxygen and carbon dioxide. After a minute or two the pain dissipates to a dull ache.
“Good, well done Angel. Now let’s get you dressed and I’ll give Lisa a call. They only live an hour away, you still have time. She’ll be there I promise. God I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted.” He helps me to pull the cotton top over my head and put some soft knickers on. He tenderly kisses my lips and brushes my damp hair out of my face.
“It’s okay Leighton, God I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Oh fuck!” I shout again as another contraction hits.
“Come on baby, work through it. It won’t be long; all the pain will be worth it. Our little baby will be here soon,” and with his help the pain soon rolls away.
He collects my hospital bag from the wardrobe; puts some slippers on my feet before carrying me downstairs like
I am an invalid.
“Everything all right Mr. Lock?” I hear the deep voice of Carter, one of the security men, ask Leighton.
Another contraction hits me then and there, in front of all six security detail and my fiancé. “Oh Jesus Christ, Leighton it hurts, please stop it. Ouch, ooh, ooh, ooh, God I fucking hate you, you bloody bastard, you did this to me. Oh fuck.” I scream out the string of obscenities, feeling bad for what I have just said to Leighton.
“Good luck with that boss,” one of the men says laughing at us, before they up and leave us alone.
“Abbi, look at me. We can do this baby; you are strong, so very strong and beautiful. Now, in out in out, just like we practiced, you’re doing so well Angel.” His voice is so calm and controlled; it is mesmerising just to see how he is dealing with all of this, especially when all I want to do is rip his dick off and shove it up his arse.
“Please Leighton, just get it out of me.” I grip his arm tight, waiting for the pain to give me break. When it finally wanes he quickly transfers me to the large 4X4 parked in the underground spaces.
He doesn’t strap my belt around me as it is too tight around my constricting stomach.
“You okay baby?” he asks me with concern in his eyes. He drives with absolute precision and carefulness along the country lanes; it actually begins to piss me off. I have a person in me, stretching my fricking cervix and he is driving like an old fucking man.
“I would be if you stopped driving like a fucking pensioner, put your foot down Leighton or so help me God.” The effects of another contraction are turning me into mummazilla, but in this second I couldn’t give a flying fuck. I want to rip the child from my womb to stop the pain. I can feel it all the way through me, penetrating my legs, back, uterus, vagina and my head. God my head is hurting something fierce. The pressure from tensing as every contraction comes makes my head feel like a sledge hammer has been taken to it.
He speeds up by all of five miles an hour; I want to slap him upside the head. “Did you call Lisa and Carl? I need her there, I can’t do this without her.” I need my mum, she can take the pain away, she always does.
“Yes baby, they're close by. They were on their way to see you for New Year’s so they had a hotel booked for tonight. There, we're nearly here but they’re going to come straight to the hospital; she’ll probably be there before we are. So calm down and try to relax, it’s not good for the baby.” Is he for real?
“Good for the baby? I’ll tell you what’s not good for the baby, its daddy murdered by its mother for being born in a fucking car because its father doesn’t want to drive above the stupid bloody speed limit. Don’t tell me what’s good for my baby Leighton or I’ll rip your fucking dick off and force feed it to you. Now hurry the fucking hell up!” Rant over, that shut him up and he puts his foot down a little more.
“Please, baby, just stop, I can’t take anymore. You’re hurting mummy.” I say to my stomach, as I rub it to ease the pain, the tears in my eyes are falling on my cheeks, and I can’t stop them. The pain is so bad, the feeling similar to period pains but multiplied by a gazillion. I want to curl into a ball and die.
“Baby, I’m sorry. God, I wish I could help you to take the pain away.” His tender words help with the pain, his warm hand clasping mine and squeezing slightly to let me know he is there beside me.
“How far are we now? I can’t sit any longer, I need to lie down.” I can’t stand this seated position, I want to curl up or bend over to relieve some of the throbbing in my uterus.
“A couple of minutes more Angel. We’ll be there soon and we’ll get you comfy. I love you so much Abigail, God so much.” I see his hand reach to his eyes and brush away a fallen tear. The gesture melts me, turning my insides to goo. His love for me and his nearly born child is outstanding; I’d never known a man to have such a big heart and so much love to give.
I was silent the rest of the journey, other than the one other contraction I had that was rather mild in comparison to the previous ones. I frequently look over to Leighton to find him watching me with utter love; his bright green eyes looking so deep and soulful.
“We’re here Angel.” He parks the car outside the maternity unit in a disabled badge space. A parking ticket is the least of his worries. Leighton has money spilling from his arse.
He collects me from my seat once again, carrying me through to the maternity unit front desk.
“Hi, my fiancée’s waters have broken, her contractions are about four minutes apart and are lasting an average of forty-five seconds.” He mumbles the words out fast and panicky.
“Okay, Sir, what is your fiancée’s name?” the snobby receptionist asks.
“Abigail Adams,” he replies, impatience in his tone. I hear the receptionist typing away at her keys on the computer, clearly searching for my name.
“Okay, brilliant, if you could please help Miss Adams into the wheelchair we’ll take her through to the delivery suite so the doctor can examine her.” A chair is placed behind my bum and Leighton assists me to sit back into it. Another contraction comes, forcing tears from my eyes and screams of pain from my throat before dissipating once again.
Leighton had booked a private suite at the maternity unit; it is very posh and clean. Pale pink walls with an en-suite bathroom, lots of fluffy pillows and a birthing pool, greet us. I have always said from the beginning of my pregnancy I was adamant I wanted a water birth.
My midwife arrives a few seconds after I am seated on the bed safely, riding out another very painful contraction.
“Hello Abigail, how are we?” she asks me kindly, another fucker I would love to rip the head off of! Why the second and third person narratives all the time? And secondly, how does she think I am when I am screaming, crying and cursing my head off? Oh, I know, I look perfectly dandy.
“Been better,” I reply, clutching my tummy.
“Right let’s see how far along you are shall we, then we’ll get the bath run and get you in.” She perches between my legs, lifting them onto the stirrups so she can look properly. Leighton holds my hand to his lips, clasping it in his. His soft lips warm my skin, my soul and also warm my heart.
It is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.
I look to the door and see Lisa standing there, the biggest smile is on her face, but laced with sympathy for me.
“Hey baby girl.” She walks to my other side of the bed; the side Leighton isn’t patrolling, and strokes the damp hair from my forehead before leaning in and planting a gentle kiss upon it.
“Hey, I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell her, smiling back at her.
I feel the doctor’s fingers within my vagina, moving around and examining me.
After a minute she stands, removes her latex gloves and disposes of them.
“We have good and bad news.” The bad news part doesn’t sit well with me, what bad news could it be?
“Go on.” I am beginning to panic, what would she say is wrong?
“Good news is your nine centimeters dilated so you have a few minutes, twenty minutes tops before this little one wants out,” she smiles at me.
“And the bad news?” I ask anxiously.
“There is no water birth for you Abbi; it’s too close of a call.” Oh thank God, I thought she was going to say something is wrong.
“Okay, that’s fine.” I sit up sharply as an electric stab pulsates through my womb, the worst contraction I have had this entire time. A sick feeling rises in my stomach and before I know it I am spewing into a kidney bowl.
“It’s okay baby, you’re doing so well. It’s not long.” Lisa’s soothing voice penetrates my ear drums.
“Mum, please, stop the pain, aww fuck please, take it away.” I beg her. I look into her eyes, the tears are pouring from them. It is in this moment I realise I had called her mum. I have always referred to her as Lisa.
“It’s okay Abbi; it’s all going to be okay. I’m so proud of you baby girl,
really proud. Shhh, push through it, I know it hurts but you can do it.” I grab ahold of her arm as a second contraction follows almost immediately after the first.
“Leighton, wet that cloth for me under the cold tap please son,” Lisa commands Leighton, who has remained silent since the midwife had told us our child would be here within the hour. I think his nerves have gotten the better of him.
He returns with the cold flannel and presses it to my forehead, cooling the sticky burning skin. “I need you Leighton.” I beg him to help me. I need his comfort, his warmth, and his face. Just him being here helping me is enough for me.
“I’m here Angel, I’ll always be here. Just think in an hour we’ll be holding our little boy or girl, in an hour it’ll all be over with.” I nod at him as tears fill my eyes.
“I love you so much Leighton, so much baby,” I reassure him, placing my hand on his cheek, my sweaty palm slides almost instantly. Leighton’s own hand comes up to hold onto mine keeping it planted to his face.
“And I you Abigail. I love you always.” A tear falls onto my hand and I smile up to him.
“Oh God, I need to push.” An intense feeling surrounds my vagina, I feel full and I need to empty it.
“Okay Abbi, let’s take a look and see if you’re ready.” The midwife situates herself between my parted legs again and raises my ankles up. placing her gloved hand inside of me she says, “Right, ten centimeters, you’re ready Abbi, next contraction I want you to give me a big push. If you two can hold her legs up for me it’ll make this a whole lot easier,” she instructs Lisa and Leighton.
Deliverance (The LockDown Series Book 1) Page 31