“Annie… is everything okay?” I asked worriedly.

She looked drained, her normally cornflower blue eyes looked gray. Her face was pale, streaks of tears staining her face. “Charlie, your grandmother. She’s in… she’s in the hospital. I’m so sorry, Charlie.”

“I didn’t know she was sick, I had absolutely no idea.” Charlotte’s shoulders fall as she places her palm on the tombstone again. “She had a brain tumor and had found out it was malignant. It was too late for any treatment, and she wanted to die in peace. Annie told me she didn’t want to burden me as I had my own worries and adding this on top would only cause me undue stress. I still remember holding her hand—it was cold, so very cold. She was gone, but I held onto her tight, praying for some miracle. Praying that this was a nightmare I so desperately needed to wake up from.”

Her skin was cold, but I didn’t care. I placed the palm of her hand against my cheek. Her face looked peaceful. Her closed eyes gave me the false hope she was just sleeping like she had being doing a lot of recently. I closed my eyes, savoring the smell of her skin, the lavender scent she always wore, the one that no matter where I was reminded me of her.

This woman had always been this monumental figure in my life, but it wasn’t until the end, until the very end that she became my life. She had become my best friend. This woman was more of a mother to me than my own. She nurtured and loved me unconditionally despite the mistakes I had made.

Why did this have to happen?

Why couldn’t I see the signs she was ill?

The constant tears streamed down my face, the salty liquid falling upon my lips, clouding my vision and falling onto her hands. I kissed them, hoping my touch would bring her back to me. Maybe she needed a reason to live. Yes, that’s it, your great-grandchild.

I climbed into the bed, lying beside her like I had done every so often. Ignoring now how she felt even colder, that her body didn’t radiate that warmth, and that her skin felt clammy. I was hopelessly wishing that I could feel the touch of her hand stroking my hair, the hum of her voice filling the room.

“I felt it today, Gran…” I closed my eyes. I tried imagining her smile as I told her my story, the way her eyes lit up her whole face, the big brown pools of chocolate that replicated mine. “The baby… it kicked. It was unbelievable, my baby kicked.” I sobbed loudly, unable to compress the whimpering sounds that left my mouth. She was gone, really gone. Life couldn’t go on, I needed her.

I called her name, my body shaking, clutching onto her tightly as I shook her body. Screaming, I demanded she come back, that life wasn’t fair. She prayed to God every day—I had witnessed it with my own eyes. How could she be pulled away from this earth, this angel that was a blessing? How could God fail us all? How could he fail me?

Warm arms wrapped around me, whispering words in my ear. I turned around, letting go of her, faced with the hospital staff. I knew what they were doing, so I clutched onto Annie, burying my head into her chest, sobbing so loud that the echoing throughout the room masked the sound of my beautiful grandmother being taken away.

“Charlotte… I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

In my eyes, Charlotte has always been a strong individual. For most people, not having a mother present during their late teens would prove to be difficult. Though, not Charlotte. It didn’t seem to deter her from living life. She loved her dad so much, and not once did I hear her whine about the fact that her mother was living it up in Cuba with some guy half her age. I realize as she tells the story, Charlotte is very capable of hiding her emotions. Even I couldn’t see that she needed a mother, someone who could guide her during this difficult stage of life, someone to smother her emotionally and physically in unconditional love, and she finally got to experience it, only now a little too late.

“They say for every death there’s a grieving process, but when you are put in that position, it’s the loneliest experience. It doesn’t matter how many people are around you, suffering like you are, you only feel your own pain. And the grief, it comes in waves, shattering you, breaking every part of you which is barely holding on.

“I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at the empty bed which was her final resting place, replaying in my mind the events… how I could have stopped this. Of course, I couldn’t, but I let my imagination run away, retracing my steps,” she continues.

Something was wrong, very wrong. The blood was a sure sign. Panicking, I walked to the nurses’ station, the look of horror on their faces as they saw that I was covered in blood. They immediately began paging the doctors, and I was rushed to maternity when the nightmare officially unfolded.

Suddenly, everything went completely silent, like in slow motion, the panicked faces around me scurrying around the room, preparing themselves with gowns, gloves, and masks. Instruments were being wheeled into the room, the doctors discussing amongst themselves as the nurses placed a breathing mask over my face. I could feel my pulse pounding through my body, and an excruciating pain escaped as a gush of warm liquid spread all over my legs. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

Was this still a nightmare?

Had I fallen aslee

p?

“Charlotte, listen to me, you need to push,” the doctor told me.

I was in a blind panic. I didn’t understand what was happening. Another nurse wheeled what looked like an incubator into the room.

It was for a baby.

“Push what?” I shrieked, sucking the air that the mask provided me.

“The baby. Your water has ruptured, and the baby is coming. Charlotte, there is no time, you need to push… now,” his voice raised.

The pressure built up, and unwillingly, I felt the urge to push. I held onto the nurse beside me, following her instructions, taking one last breath before I let out a scream.

“I was diagnosed with an incompetent cervix,” she says, barely a whisper.

“When the baby is forced to be delivered if the water ruptures.” The medical jargon isn’t lost on me, but I know this story can only go one way, and I brace myself for the worse.

She nods silently.

Tags: Kat T. Masen Dark Love Billionaire Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net