Rock-A-Bye Baby (A BWWM Pregnancy Romance)(8)

By: Vivian Ward





My eyes flutter shut, and everything goes dark. I can’t hear a thing because the loud blast is still ringing in my ears. Am I going to be okay? I feel so disoriented, everything is spinning, and I can’t open my eyes because it takes too much energy. My body feels like it’s drunk; that feeling that you get where you can’t move anything, your limbs feel too heavy to lift, and everything uses more energy than it would take to pick up a car. That’s what I feel like right now. When is this going to stop? I can’t stop asking myself what happened and what did she do to me. My cell phone. I had it in my hand. Where is it? I try to feel around for it with my hand, but I can’t find it. Moving my arm takes even more energy than opening my eyes, and I finally give up searching for it. With my hands covered in blood, I doubt I would be able to work my touch screen properly anyway.



Is my baby okay? I can’t tell if she’s moving or not because everything feels hot and numb. I’m scared, and I want to scream but I can’t. I open my mouth, but the sound never comes out of me that I hope will summons for help. I feel myself fading away, leaving reality. No, Trinity. You have to stay with it. Don’t go to sleep. I try to fight it, but it’s useless. My head is spinning in a haze, and I’m gradually becoming unaware of my surroundings and what’s happening. Stay with it, T. Don’t let go. Dear God, help me, please.



“Ma’am? Miss, can you hear me? Squeeze my fingers if you can hear me.”



Who is this? Never mind who it is. I can hear! I attempt to open my eyes, and I feel my eyelids move ever so slowly, only lifting half way. There’s a man hovering over me as he yells over his shoulder. The lights are on. Strange, I didn’t turn them on. I notice that he’s wearing all blue. He looks friendly. “Ma’am, my name is Gary. I’m with Cook County Ambulance. If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”



I squeeze his hand using every ounce of energy that I can muster, hoping it’s enough that he can even feel it. It’s getting too hard to keep my eyes open. They begin to flutter shut. “Ma’am, stay with us. Keep your eyes open, okay? Can you tell me your name?”



My mouth opens as I gasp for air and struggle to make an audible noise. “Trinity.” I look around, taking another staggering breath. The pain in my body has become so bad that numbness is setting in. “Greene.”



“Good. Okay, Trinity, do you know who shot you?”



I may have been dizzy and in a haze but hearing the words “who shot you” sent a wave a panic through my body. Oh my God! Is the baby okay? Did it hit the baby? Everything from my waist down is numb from the intense pain and pressure that I’m feeling. I shake my head as I start to cry. I want to scream, but I don’t have it in me.



“Help me get her on the stretcher,” he says to someone standing behind him. I see a tall, bald man wearing similar clothing. “Be careful, the slug is in her right hip,” he says, still talking to the man. He turns his attention back to me. “Trinity, we’re going to move you onto the stretcher. Hold as still as you possibly can. We don’t want to cause more damage than what’s already been done.”



I nod my head. Don’t worry. I haven’t been able to move a muscle ever since she shot me. My breathing is becoming shallow, and I can barely suck in any air. Jesus, please let me breathe. The baby and I will both die without oxygen. The two men gently turn me onto my left side as they slide the board beneath my body. When I’m on my side, I see a third man. He’s a cop, holding his radio in his hand as he talks into it.



“Here’s her cell phone,” the EMT says, picking it up off the floor. “We can bring it with us.”



“I’ll take that,” the cop replies. As the two paramedics wheel me out to the ambulance, the cop follows closely behind them. “I’m going to need to ride with her. I need to ask her questions while she’s awake and able to answer them.”



He climbs into the ambulance and takes a seat on the bench to my left. Only one of the paramedics is back here with us; the other one is the driver. As soon as the door shuts, the older, heavier paramedic, Gary, starts hooking me up to everything imaginable inside the cab of the ambulance as it takes off. The sirens sound loud and obnoxious, making it near impossible to hear anything they’re saying to me.



“Is this your cell phone?” Gary held it closer to my face so I could see as he spoke directly into my ear.



I nod and whisper, “Yes.”

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