Page 87 of Mortify

"Breathe through it," she coaches. "Just like we tell our patients."

"There's so much blood," I whimper. "Too much?—"

"Don't look at it. Look at me." Her voice is calm, professional, but I can see the worry in her eyes. "When did you eat last?"

"I don't... dinner. Couldn't eat much."

"Any other symptoms? Fever? Severe pain on one side?"

She's checking for ectopic pregnancy, I realize.

Running through the same checklist we use on calls.

"Just the cramping. And the blood." Another wave hits, and I bite back a scream. "Oh God, Vail. I can't lose this baby. I can't?—"

"You're not going to," she says firmly. "Bleeding in the first trimester is more common than you think. Doesn't always mean miscarriage."

But we both know this much blood isn't normal.

We both know what this probably means.

"Does Regnor know?" Gwen asks from the front. "Should we call?—"

"He's on a run," I gasp. "Can't... can't interrupt that."

"Fuck that," Vail says. "He'd want to know."

"No." I squeeze her hand harder. "Not until we know for sure. Please."

Because if I'm losing this baby, if this is really happening, I need to know first.

Need to process it before I have to see the devastation on his face.

The ER is mercifully quiet when we arrive.

Vail wheels me straight back, using her EMT credentials to bypass triage.

"Pregnant patient, approximately ten weeks, heavy vaginal bleeding and cramping," she rattles off to the nurse. "Needs immediate evaluation."

The nurse takes one look at the blood soaking through my jeans and moves fast.

"Room three. I'll get the OB resident."

Everything moves quickly after that.

IV started.

Blood drawn.

Ultrasound machine wheeled in.

"I'm Dr. Sims," the resident says, young and kind-faced. "Can you tell me what's been happening?"

I explain through tears—the cramping, the blood, the fear.

She nods, making notes.

"Let's take a look, okay? See what's going on in there."

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