“Mrs. Reynolds,” she whispered, eyes fixed on the display in her palm, “there’s something inside her…”
I arose so rapidly my seat scraped the flooring. “What do you mean ‘something’?” I demanded.
Dr. Brooks swallowed. “It’s a mass,” she stated carefully. “Large. And it’s pressing on her organs.”
Emma’s eyes dilated in dread. “Am I—am I dying?”
Dr. Brooks shook her head swiftly. “Not if we act now,” she stated. “But she needs surgery.”
My spirit went motionless upon a solitary element.
Because as Dr. Brooks oriented the visualization toward me, I observed it—dark and unmistakable—and I was unable to regulate the acoustic that fractured out of my throat.
I screamed.
Not because I comprehended everything.
But because I comprehended sufficient to recognize my partner had been faulty… and my female offspring had been existing with a ticking clock inside her.
The scream startled Emma so severely she attempted to adjust position upward and immediately doubled over, clutching her flank.
