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Kisses and Warfare
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The woman he loved died.
He’s an asshole, you see.
Most women don’t fall at the feet of a man like him. No, they grovel.
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“You can do it,” Rochelle states.
I shake my head at her words. Why is she so crazy right now? “No. No, I can’t.” My hands slide over my ever-growing belly.
What the fuck is this?
How did this happen?
They say a bond is meant to be there with my child. Where is it?
Right now, I’m mad. So mad. How was I stupid enough to be put in this situation in the first place?
“You can. If anyone can, you can.”
“Shut up! Shut up!” I scream, throwing the nearest glass I can reach.
Rochelle isn’t fazed by my outbursts. I guess that’s a plus side of being sisters. She’s used to my brand of crazy. Her hand touches my shoulder, and I fall over in pain, clutching my belly.
“I got you. We all do.”
I shake my head. My teeth clenching hard together as I close my eyes. “I don’t want her in there. Do you hear me? I don’t want her in there,” I reiterate while managing to stand and push away from Rochelle’s touch.
She shakes her head and purses her lips. “You’ll need her. More than me. Trust me, she’s done this a time or two.” Rochelle offers me a small smile. I don’t take it and bend back over, ready for the next contraction to hit me like a ton of bricks.
“Will not! I got this,” I say, reaching for a cloth that Rochelle holds out in her hand.
As my hand grips it, the pain hits me hard again. “Fuck! Fuck! Why did I have to do that? Seriously,” I scream, but it’s more of a half-cry.
“Do what?” Rochelle asks as I manage to catch my breath.
“Have a one-night stand. Look where it’s gotten me.” My eyes look down at what appears like a large basketball taking over my belly. Reality will be here soon. And then I will have to face it, even if I don’t want to. Even if I never wanted this.
“I’m excited for your new adventure.”
I want to throat punch her. No, I don’t, but it might help my anxiety. “Fuck you.”
Rochelle giggles at my words. The door to my room flies open and my mother strides in. She walks straight over to me, hands going on my back and massaging in just the right spot.
How does she know?
I don’t want to thank her, but somehow, the words slip from my mouth anyway, “Thank you.”
“See, told you,” Rochelle says.
I look up to shoot her a warning glare as the midwife walks in.
“Let’s check to see how far dilated you are.” She snaps on some gloves, and I have to look away. I climb up on the bed that I have grown to hate. The pain is all in my back and being on it does not help one little bit. “Are we waiting on the father, or are we all here?”
“We’re all here,” Rochelle answers for me.
The father? Yeah, what a joke he turned out to be.
I knew I should have kept my legs shut and not fallen for his good looks. Damn asshole. That’s what happens when you let your vagina think for you, instead of using your head. You end up pregnant and ready to have a baby you never envisaged or wanted.
“You’re at nine centimeters. It’s almost time to push, Kat.” She looks to Rochelle, and then my mother, as another midwife steps into the room. She takes hold of one of my legs and lifts my other one for my sister. “If you can hold her here, that will be great. On the next contraction, Kat, I need you to push. Now, only push during the contraction. Once it stops, you stop and breathe.”
“I don’t want to do this. Just take it out already,” I say to her.
The midwife doesn’t say anything back to me. Smart woman.
My mother wipes my face with a wet towel and grabs one of my hands, and as I’m about to tell her to not touch me, a contraction hits, hard.
“Push. Push low as if you need to do number twos.”
I do exactly as she says, and it burns. Damn it hurts. Everything hurts. Tears leave my eyes, and right now, I honestly don’t know if I can do this. How can I do this?
“You are doing great, sweetie.” My mother wipes my face again, and I look down at our hands and notice hers are bleeding—obviously from my nails digging in—but she doesn’t remove it or make any suggestion that I am hurting her.
“Okay, next one… big push. I can see the head, so I want a big push.”
I shake my head.
I don’t want a head to come out of my vagina.
“Cut it out. It will ruin me,” I say mid-freak out.
The only one who laughs is Rochelle, knowing precisely what I’m talking about.
Ruining my vagina—I have a pretty vagina. Well, I did. Probably not so much now with the size it’s stretching to.