“You’re the doctor who performed my C-section?”
“Your emergency C section,” he clarifies. “You were unconscious when you arrived. You were brought in by an older African American man.”
Geoffrey.
“We asked him a few questions when we needed some of your personal information,” the doctor continues. “But he couldn’t give us any. He claimed that you two were not related.”
“That’s true,” I reply. “We’re not related. I met him a half hour before my water broke.”
“I see,” the doctor tuts. “Well, I’m going to need you to fill out some forms for us.”
“Forms?” I ask, panic rising inside me like bile.
“Yes, we need your name, age, nation ID number. Things of that nature,” he says. “We need to know who to contact.”
I can feel my breaths come in again, sharp and painful.
When will I be rid of this feeling, this weight on my chest?
“There’s no one to contact,” I say. “It’s just me.”
The doctor cocks his head to the side. “No husband, boyfriend? No mother or father?” he presses.
“No,” I repeat firmly. “No one.”
I stare down at my son and the weight of my words settles over both of us. The path I have chosen is going to be a lonely one.
Did I do the right thing by leaving Artem?
Or have I just deprived my son of a good father?
No. No second-guessing. I did this for Phoenix’s safety. For my own.
There was no other choice.
“Uh, doctor?” Maria says, but I don’t look up to watch the exchange. “She just woke up mere minutes ago. She’s still disoriented and very tired. Perhaps we should give her a few hours?”
“I can give her one,” the doctor says, looking at me with his leering, hooded eyes. “But I’m going to need you to fill out those forms.”
He gives me a curt nod and strides back out the door.
If I fill out those forms, someone will find me. Budimir, Artem, my father’s allies—someone. That much is guaranteed.
I’ve managed to stay under the radar this long. But now I’m trapped here, I’m physically incapacitated, and I have no one to ask for help.
I try to control the panic I feel, but my body hurts, my breasts hurt, and I’m so fucking scared that I can’t keep the sobs at bay.
They burst from me the moment the doctor has cleared the room.
“Oh, darling!” Maria cries out.
Annette moves forward, too. “Honey,” she murmurs. “What’s wrong?”
I look up at both of them, wondering how much to say, whether or not I should say anything at all.
“Childbirth is a difficult and emotional journey, honey,” Maria assures me.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I… I can’t fill out those forms,” I admit at last.
Both nurses exchange a glance. “Why not?” Maria asks.
I shake my head and Annette sighs. “Honey, you were admitted to this hospital. We’re gonna need you to sign a few things.”
“I can’t,” I reply desperately. “I can’t sign anything. I can’t pay for anything and I can’t put my name on anything.”
“Esme…”
“I shouldn’t have told you my name,” I whimper. “I’m such a fool.”
“Shh,” Annette consoles me. “Hush now, darling. Your son needs you to be strong.”
I know. I know I need to be strong.
I just don’t want to have to be all the time.
I want Artem.
I want my husband.
The moment the thought let loose inside my head, I felt it deep down inside my heart. The truth of it. The desperate, powerful longing for him that’s never stopped.
That never will stop.
No matter what he does, I love Artem Kovalyov.
“I need to stand up,” I say, at last. “I need to stand. Can you get the IV out? Please… please?”
Annette and Maria exchange a worried glance. But then Maria nods.
I cover myself up and hand Phoenix over to Maria, while Annette moves forward and starts releasing me from the drip.
The moment I’m free, I get out of bed, frustrated by how little my body wants to co-operate. Another bolt of pain courses through my body and strikes at my stomach.
But I don’t have the option of a slow recovery.
“Honey, you sure you wanna stand right now?” Maria asks.
“Yes,” I insist. “I need to walk. To breathe.”
I can feel my anxiety levels spike and I hear a siren in the distance.
Are they coming for me?
I killed a man in the diner. They’re no doubt looking for me.
I should have been out of the town by now.
“Honey. Esme!” Maria grabs my shoulders and pulls me around to face her, forcing me to meet her gaze. “You’re in real trouble, aren’t you?”
I nod, feeling another sob scratch at my throat. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“All right,” Maria says with finality, looking towards Annette. “Annette and I are gonna go do our rounds now. We’ll be gone for ten minutes. Understand?”
I pull her to me and hug her as tight as I can.
“Thank you,” I whisper in her ear as I look towards Annette. “Thank you both.”
“Your clothes are on that chair over there,” Annette says. “Next to the duffel bag you had with you when you were brought in.”
Anette comes forward and puts Phoenix back in my arms. Then she and Maria head out the door, glancing back at me the whole time.
The moment the door shuts on me, I set Phoenix down on the bed and pull off my hospital robe.
I dress fast, wincing every now and again at the pain. But it’s secondary, a mild irritant to the stress of escape.
Lingering above it all is a vague sense of déjà vu.
I realize I’ve been here once before.
I’ve woken up in a hospital room and fled it towards an uncertain future.
Of course, I found Artem in the end.
But I’m not sure it will be that simple this time around.
Once I’m dressed, I make sure that Phoenix’s swaddle is nice and tight before I pick him up and settle him in the crook of my arm.
Then I hoist my duffel bag onto my shoulder. It’s heavier than I remember, but that’s probably only because I’m weak from the
