Until Autumn

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I adjust my hold around her waist and carefully pull her into my chest to keep her protected while checking over her, making sure that the bleeding is only artificial and nothing life-threatening. “NURSE,” I call out. “I need a bed. NOW.”

Hearing the noise, Dr. Terrace comes rushing out of the meeting room with Autumn right behind him. They both rush toward us. Dr. Terrace slips into Ashleigh’s other side while addressing me. “What’s going on?” he questions as Autumn hovers, waiting and ready to do whatever I might need of her.

“Ashleigh Langbrock,” I start. “She’s my domestic violence patient. Eight months pregnant, severely underweight with far too many complications. She’s on the run from her husband and staying in a local women’s shelter. The husband just found her.”

Autumn sucks in a gasp as she grabs Ashleigh’s bag off the floor while Dr. Terrace curses and calls for the nurse to hurry the fuck up. “What do we do?” Autumn questions. “What do you need?”

“Clear the elevator. I need to get her straight up to my examination room. Who knows what state this baby is in.”

Autumn instantly runs ahead, clearing people away from the elevator just as the nurse rushes in with a bed. Dr. Terrace and I get Ashleigh comfortable and within seconds, we’re in the elevator with Autumn’s hand slamming down over the button for level four.

There’s nothing but silence in the elevator as it soars through the levels until it finally reaches level four with a familiar ‘ding.’ We pour out of it and Autumn stays right on my heels as Dr. Terrace stops by the nurses’ station to put an operating room on standby, just in case things aren’t looking good.

Autumn follows me through to my examination room and fights the tears in her eyes as she pulls up Ashleigh’s shirt to find her stomach a mess of blue and purple bruising. I start feeling around as Autumn prepares everything for an ultrasound to check the baby’s heart rate.

“Shit,” I sigh, not liking what I’m seeing.

I grab the gel and as I squeeze the cool lubricant onto Ashleigh’s stomach, she comes to with a broken gasp. “What … what …”

“You’re safe, Ashleigh,” I tell her as Autumn moves into her side. “You’re in my examination room and I’m just about to check on the well-being of your baby. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve just been run over by a truck,” she murmurs, refusing to meet my eyes as her head sinks back to the examination table. “Is my baby alright?”

“Still trying to figure that one out,” I say. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I press the ultrasound wand onto Ashleigh’s bruised stomach and push it around, trying to get a good read on the baby. She stares at the screen, and as the baby moves around within her, she seems to relax. “I was making my way back to the shelter with a few groceries when his truck pulled up beside me and he jumped out. I tried to run, but compared to him … there was no use. He had me by my hair in seconds and dragged me back to his truck. There was no one around to help, and when I screamed, he just hit me harder saying it was punishment for running in the first place and that I deserved to die for leaving him.” Tears stain her cheek as she meets my eyes with desperation. “You have to help me. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to take my baby away from me and then kill me. I just … I don’t know what to do. It’s never going to stop. He’s never going to leave me alone.”

Autumn leans into her, running her hand over Ashleigh’s hair and desperately trying to soothe her. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “You’re safe here. We’ll get you the help you need.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she cries. “You don’t understand. He’s coming for me. He stopped at the gas station, and when he went in to pay, I ran. He knew I would have come to the closest hospital. He’s going to find me.”

Autumn glances up and catches my eye and the helplessness swirling within her gaze nearly tears me apart. I look back down at Ashleigh and gently squeeze her hand. “I swear,” I tell her, making sure that she truly hears me. “No matter what, I will not let any harm come to you, especially not while you’re here in my care. Do you hear me? You’re going to be alright.”

The tears continue to streak down her face as she watches me, trying to figure out if she should put her faith in me or risk running again. “Okay,” she finally says. “Please, just tell me that my baby is alright. She’s all I have left.”