Post by Emma Lawrence on Sept 20, 2009 18:05:12 GMT -5
There was still three hours left in the day, and Oliver was happily down to bed, so shouldn't she do something worthwhile? Cian was out having another one of his bromance nights with Dean (men...), so the house was hers to command. So she gave into her yearning of her body and laid down on the sofa, back instantly relieved from any and all pressure, feet no longer aching, though her head was still pounding. A bucket she kept by her side, just in case. Cian didn't understand why the throwing up hadn't stopped yet, and she didn't have the heart to tell him it wouldn't end until the moment the baby left her body.
It was when she closed her eyes and drifted off that truths were revealed to her as well.
A sharp pain frazzled her side. There were blank walls and the smell of blood; vomit; sweat. She stood in a white room, and looked around. The unmistakable tingle in the back of her skull told her this was no ordinary dream. A vision. A premonition.
Another splitting pain struck her abdomen, and she started to crumple to the ground onto her knees, sporting a grimace, hand pressed to her hard six-month belly. Emma fought to keep her eyes open, rather than clutched in a squint from the pain. She forced herself to her feet, walking further into the room. She sensed worry. Excitement. Agony. Inability. Despair.
Her eyes locked on a duplicate image of herself, though even more pregnant than she was now, lying in a hospital bed, wailing from excrutiating labor pains. The nurses and doctors, donned in masks and white coats, looked menacing and scary. She caught a glimpse of the back of Cian's head, finding relief knowing that he was there.
Until she was thrown back by another blast of contractions. She knew it wasn't real; tried to tell herself that--it was only a mirror experience of her future self--but her body was less than convinced.
Reopening her eyes made them widen in shock, and she stared at her vision in disbelief, like a deer in the headlights. She screamed.
Emma threw herself forward, gasping for air. She was drenched with sweat from head to toe. Breaths uneven and panicked. Tears started to pour down from her eyes and she laid a hand on the returned form of her stomach, healthy at six months, as it should be. And, Emma, riddled with the terror of the vision, now thrice moaned: "No...no...no..."
It was when she closed her eyes and drifted off that truths were revealed to her as well.
A sharp pain frazzled her side. There were blank walls and the smell of blood; vomit; sweat. She stood in a white room, and looked around. The unmistakable tingle in the back of her skull told her this was no ordinary dream. A vision. A premonition.
Another splitting pain struck her abdomen, and she started to crumple to the ground onto her knees, sporting a grimace, hand pressed to her hard six-month belly. Emma fought to keep her eyes open, rather than clutched in a squint from the pain. She forced herself to her feet, walking further into the room. She sensed worry. Excitement. Agony. Inability. Despair.
Her eyes locked on a duplicate image of herself, though even more pregnant than she was now, lying in a hospital bed, wailing from excrutiating labor pains. The nurses and doctors, donned in masks and white coats, looked menacing and scary. She caught a glimpse of the back of Cian's head, finding relief knowing that he was there.
Until she was thrown back by another blast of contractions. She knew it wasn't real; tried to tell herself that--it was only a mirror experience of her future self--but her body was less than convinced.
Reopening her eyes made them widen in shock, and she stared at her vision in disbelief, like a deer in the headlights. She screamed.
Emma threw herself forward, gasping for air. She was drenched with sweat from head to toe. Breaths uneven and panicked. Tears started to pour down from her eyes and she laid a hand on the returned form of her stomach, healthy at six months, as it should be. And, Emma, riddled with the terror of the vision, now thrice moaned: "No...no...no..."