Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

No...

I swear my ribs snap one by one.

“No, you shouldn’t have, and I didn’t stop you. I offered another way, and yes you can, just… breathe,” Victoria tells her.

“Get that stupid camera out of my face,” Mallory snaps.

“I can’t. This isn’t for you.”

Suddenly Mallory’s cries grow louder, and my heart starts to pound in my chest, breaking away the final layer of ice the last few days created.

Tears fall from her and she frantically pushes her legs around beneath the blanket covering her.

“Oh fuck,” Raven rasps, but I can’t look at her.

My eyes are glued to the TV.

“Just a little longer,” Victoria whispers.

Mallory’s breathing starts to smooth out, her eyes sliding toward the screen.

She cries, “It hurts.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then the camera is set down.

My eyes are locked on Mallory’s as hers move around the room, trailing Victoria, I think, and then she’s at her bedside, a cloth in one hand, her other, sliding into one of Mallory’s.

My lungs allow a full breath as she pats at Mallory’s face with the small towel, cold or warm, I don’t know.

Mallory sits up as much as she can until her forehead is against Victoria’s, and Victoria lets the cloth fall, her hand coming up to gently move Mallory’s hair from her face.

“Why haven’t you left, Vee? I’m awful to you.”

“You’re alone, fifteen, and having a baby. I might be awful too if I was in your shoes.” Her eyes move between hers a moment, and then she sits on the edge of the bed. “Are you afraid?” she whispers.

“Not for reasons you probably think,” Mallory admits. “Only of the pain.”

When Victoria doesn’t respond, Mallory says to her, “You think I’m making a mistake.”

“I’m not here to judge you.”

“But you have an opinion.”

Victoria slips behind her, pulling her hair back and begins braiding it. “Only you know if you’re not ready to be a mom. That’s your decision, and if you’re not and you know it, then... I think admitting that makes you stronger than anyone I know.”

Victoria’s words twist and turn inside in cold despair.

Strong. She called her strong.

Was she?

“But?”

Victoria sighs, her arms falling to her sides. “But it’s weak, and wrong, that the father is out there, someone who would want and love her in a heartbeat, and you don’t want to give him the chance.”

Mallory looks over her shoulder, meeting Victoria’s eyes. “He’d kill me.”

“And your life is more important than your child’s?”

“I don’t want to be a mother, and I don’t want the reminder that I am anywhere near me. You said if I stayed locked in this damn place, had this baby, you’d keep her away from me, hide her, and set me up. That I could go on with my life like this never happened, and worth a hell of a lot more.”

I swear moisture builds in Victoria’s eyes at the foul fucking words spoken by Mallory, but she blinks them away.

You lying bitch.

My chest tightens, my pulse hitting against my temples as she readies to speak, but Mallory’s face pulls tight, and she cries out right as a doctor comes in.

The woman lifts the blanket from Mallory’s legs and looks up with a smile.

“It’s time,” she says.

“Maddoc,” Raven breathes behind me.

Mallory pants, shaking her head, and right as I think it, my words are voiced.

“You can do this,” Victoria whispers.

“Okay, Mallory,” the doctor calls. “Time to push.”

My heart beats wild, emotions I can’t control taking over and stealing the air from my lungs as I move to stand directly in front of the TV.

Victoria holds her hand as Mallory screams and cries and pushes, and then I hear her.

The softest scream, a fresh, brand new, first cry.

Her first second in this world.

Her first breath.

Moisture fills my eyes, and my jaw shakes as my baby girl is lifted into view. My feet jerk to the side when suddenly I can no longer see her.

“Congratulations,” the doctor says. “It’s a girl.”

The nurse slides back into view a few torturously slow minutes later, and in her arms, wrapped tight in a tiny cocoon of teal and pink, a little striped beanie on her head, my baby girl cries. With the sound, my heart fucking sings.

The woman leans over, prepared to hand her to her mother, and my ribs ache as Mallory denies her, closing her eyes and looking away.

My stomach hollows as her hand slowly raises, pointing straight to Victoria.

The nurse offers a small smile, and with a shaky nod, Victoria walks around the bed. She wipes her hands on her jeans and welcomes my newborn daughter into her open, steady arms.

Her cries begin to soften, and when Victoria pulls her in tight, they stop, her little hands tucking in as her eyes begin to close, the warmth and comfort she needed having been given to her with zero hesitation.