Page 81 of Toxic B!tch
“YES!” she yells, throwing herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “A hundred times, yes!”
I slip the ring onto her finger, a smile tugging at my lips as I stand up and pull her close. I kiss her softly, gently, trying to savor this moment for both of us. It’s not perfect. Nothing we do ever is. But it’s ours.
When we pull back, she whispers into my ear, her breath warm against my skin. “We should head to the hospital, Malik.”
I freeze, my smile faltering, my heart suddenly racing. “Why?”
“My water just broke.”
I don’t even think. I scoop her up in my arms, not caring that I’m covered in blood, not caring about the danger still lurking in the air. All I care about is getting her to the hospital. Getting our daughter into this world.
INDIGO
I feel Malik scoop me up in his arms, and my heart races in sync with the frantic pace of the world around us. Pain surges, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to steady my breath. But it's no use. Everything is happening so fast, and I can't slow it down. Not anymore.
He sets me down in the car as gently as he can, but every movement sends another ripple of pain through me. I barely register the way he yanks open the back door, grabbing a fresh change of clothes from the duffel bag we always keep there. He strips off his bloodied ones in record time, his movements frantic, then snatches a container of Lysol wipes from the console. His hands shake as he scrubs the blood from his skin, swiping his face and fingers with quick, harsh strokes.
“Shit,” he mutters, tossing the wipes aside and sliding into the driver’s seat. His grip on the wheel is tight, knuckles white, his jaw set. The first contraction strikes, sharp and unrelenting, and I bite down on my lip, swallowing a cry.
I glance at him, the panic in his eyes that mirrors my own, reflecting back at me. “We need to call Jake,” I rasp.
The next wave hits just as I’m dialing.
"Little Snake," he answers.
“I need a Cosmo at the train station in town.” Another contraction hits and I hiss.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” his voice crackles over the phone.
“If by ‘hurt’ you mean this baby is making its way out of me, then yeah.”
Jake chuckles, but I’m already over it. "You went into labor on a job? Typical Little Snake."
The laughter makes me want to throw up. “Shut the hell up and get the job done, then come to the hospital,” I snap, fighting the pain that surges through me like a fucking tidal wave.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, his tone now serious.
I hang up, and by the time we pull into the hospital parking lot, I’m already clenching my fists, feeling like every fiber of my being is alive with intensity. The adrenaline makes it worse, but I can't stop the feeling—can't stop the trembling in my hands or the way my pulse is racing out of control.
Malik helps me inside, and the chaos of the ER surrounds us as they move us along to the L&D floor. Nurses and doctors swarm around us, trying to get me settled into a room, but it all feels like a blur. I can't focus on anything but the pain and the knowledge that this is it—this is the moment everything changes.
"Epidural?" one of the nurses asks, her voice soft but urgent.
I shake my head, barely able to find my voice. "No," I grit out, my teeth clenched as another contraction seizes me. "No meds."
They give me a look like I’m crazy, but leave me be. The pain, it’s a part of me. I’ve caused enough of it in this world, so it seems fitting that I should suffer some while I bring life into it. After everything I’ve taken from it, this is the least I can do.
Malik stays close, his presence steadying me, even though I know he’s just as scared as I am. He’s not saying much—just rubbing my back, offering quiet reassurances when he can. I feel him there, and that’s all I need right now. He doesn’t have to say the words. I know he’s with me, no matter how hard it gets.
The contractions are relentless, like waves crashing over me one after the other, each one harder than the last. My body is on fire, and there’s no escape from the burning pressure that grows with every passing minute.
All I can focus on is the pain. I try to breathe through it, but it’s hard when my body is screaming for relief. I press my palm to my swollen belly, as if to reassure the little life inside of me.
“Just breathe, Indigo,” Malik whispers, his voice low, soothing. His touch is warm against my skin, a comfort in the madness of it all. “You’re doing great. We’re almost there.”
Every time the pain spikes, I grip his hand harder, squeezing until I think my nails might break skin, but I don’t care. I need him to know that he’s my anchor, that I couldn’t do this without him.
But even with him beside me, I wonder if I’m strong enough. Wonder if I can survive this.
