I hold a hand to my chest again when unbearable pain sears it as I search the kitchen next. Just pots. The one on the stove is boiling, and the oven is smoking from something burning, but I don’t care. The house can burn down if it means my wife and child are dead. I grab a knife and head toward the living room. The floorboards creak, and the sound of her show is on, some soap opera that she watches every day.
Not finding her here, I turn around and head up the steps, taking three at a time until I get to our bedroom, where we had just made love this morning before I went to work. I push the door open, and the strength in me is sucked from my soul. I fall to my knees when I see her on the ground, a knife protruding from her small, slightly swollen belly.
“No,” I choke and crawl over to her. Oh my God, there is so much blood. It’s a huge puddle surrounding her. Her hair is soaked, laying in the red sea oozing out of her. “Baby, baby, I got you, sweetheart. I have you.” I pick her up, blood slipping through my fingers and staining my khaki pants as I lay her on my lap. I push her hair out of her pale face, and she coughs, blood spattering on my face. Her teeth are red.
Everything is fucking red.
“I love you, okay? I love you so much.” I squeeze her tighter and clench my teeth as I say the words. “I’m going to take the knife out, okay?”
“Owen,” she barely manages to say my name from how weak she is.
“I’m here. We’re going to be fine, okay? Just fine. We’re going to be okay.” I know I’m trying to convince myself as I wrap my hand around the knife. “The baby is going to be fine. She’ll be okay.” My daughter. I sob and take a second to ty compose myself.
“No, no. It doesn’t matter.” She shivers. “It’s too late, my angel.” She lays her bloodied palm against my cheek.
My angel.
It’s what she has called me since the day we met because I saved her from a bee that was buzzing around her head.
“It matters. I can call an ambulance.” I sniffle. “You’re right. Leaving it in is better because if I pull it out you could bleed more. I don’t want to hurt our daughter. I’ll be back. I’m getting the phone.”
When I reach toward the nightstand for the phone, she grips my shirt and shakes her head. “No! No cops. He said if you call, he will kill you.”
“I don’t care about me. I need you. I need you and our daughter—”
“I haven’t felt her move in a while, Owen.” She begins to cry and then screams as emotion is too painful. Her hand is cupped around the knife, and I scurry closer to to hold her again, phone in hand.
A red glare hits my palm, and I look up to see a laser from a sniper rifle at me coming from the window. I look down at Annabeth and her eyes are wide, staring at the dot. “You can’t die. Okay?”
“I don’t want to live without you or her,” I state, laying my hand on her belly. “Please don’t do this. Please let me call.”
“No,” she almost finds the strength to yell. “Promise me.” Her eyes well with tears. “Promise me you won’t call an ambulance.” More blood erupts from her lips, dripping down the corners of her mouth like molten lava. I’m drenched in her blood now. I can feel my khakis sticking to my thighs from the liquid. “Promise me, you’ll live. Promise you’ll find love again and live a good life.”
I bend down and place a kiss on her lips while holding my hand over hers where our baby is … was. I can’t help but shake my head. “I don’t want to live knowing I’m not with you two. I’d rather die so we can be together than live a miserable life apart. Please, Annabeth, don’t die. Let me call—”
“It’s too late. I’ll be dead by the time they get here.”
“No,” I cry. “No, no, no. You’re going to be fine. I can… I can fix you. I can fix it. Where is my—”
“Owen, hold me,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering shut. “Hold us.”
“Forever.” I cradle Annabeth, giving her a weak smile. “You’re the love of my life. You’re my dream.” I lean my forehead against hers and kiss her deeply, passionately, regardless if all I taste is blood. I have to feel her lips on me one last time. “I can’t…” I break away. “I can’t be without you.”
“Promise me. Promise, you’ll find love again. Don’t hide away in darkness like you did before.”
Before her is what she means.
“Promise me, Owen. Promise me, you’ll love again,” she begs, and a tear rolls down her cheek as I lay a palm on her heart and keep one on her stomach.
I hate this. I don’t want to promise. I want to die if she doesn’t live, but I can’t deny a dying woman’s last words. I can’t. “I…” I lick my lips, tasting her blood on them. “I promise.”
She gives a faint smile. “My angel. I love you. You were … my everything.” She wheezes and lays a hand over my heart. “Do good.” Annabeth smiles the best she can, her breaths ragged and slow as she struggles to live.
Minutes go by, and a heavy whoosh of breath escapes her as her eyes stare vacantly at me.
“Annabeth?” I shake her as I stare in her dilated eyes. “Annabeth!” I place my ear to her chest and when I don’t hear a heartbeat, my ears ring from the silence as I scream. Time slows, my heart aches like it never has before, and I hold her limp body to my chest while I mourn the loss of the only woman who made my life worth a damn.
I loved her deeply, fiercely, proudly, intensely.