The halls of Highhurst echoed with screams. Sibella thrashed against the bed, while Monty tried to hold her still and Phoebe brushed blonde tendrils of sweat-soaked hair from her forehead.
Sibella collapsed back against the pillows, gasping for breath. Monty wiped tears from her face, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You are amazing," he murmured. She looked up at him, almost smiling, but her face contorted in pain, and a moment later she began to scream again as another contraction overtook her. Monty wrapped his arms around her, holding her still, and her fingernails dug into his skin, even through his shirt sleeve.
When the wave of pain subsided and she stopped screaming, she dropped her head against Phoebe's shoulder. "Ph-Phoebe, I don't want to do this anymore, make it stop, please, make it stop," she sobbed.
"Isn't there anything more you can give her?" the brunette asked Doctor Brownlee, but the older man shook his head sadly.
"I'm afraid I've given her all I can."
"You're doing very well, dear," said the midwife to Sibella.
"No," murmured Sibella. "No. No, no no NO!" she shrieked as the pain seized her again. Suddenly, mid-wail, she collapsed back into Monty's arms.
"What was that?" asked Monty frantically.
"She's lost consciousness," sighed the doctor. "But we're almost there." He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief.
They waited in tense silence until Sibella made a slight noise. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Monty, who still held her. "No, I don't want to play anymore, Grahame," she said, seemingly to Monty. "Let's... let's go home, I-I want to go home." Her words were mumbled, slurred even.
Phoebe and Monty both looked to Doctor Brownlee for an explanation. "She may be delusional," spoke the grey-haired man. "It does happen occasionally- the mind disconnects from the body temporarily so that it does not have to process the trauma the body is experiencing. I've seen it before. She'll be back with us in a minute."
"Grahame?" questioned Phoebe, looking at her husband. "Where is she? In her mind, I mean. With her brother?"
"It would seem so," Monty replied, at a loss.
But Sibella did not seem to return to them. Instead, she mumbled about Grahame, and her mother, about Lionel, and even carried on one side of a conversation with Isobel Navarro. And the longer she rambled, the deeper the crease between the doctor's eyebrows grew.
They were all so focused on Sibella's words that for a minute they did not notice the blood. Oddly enough, once he turned his attention to it, this seemed to lift the doctor's spirits. "Nearly there," he remarked.
Sibella began to moan again, a sound that broke the hearts of both Monty and Phoebe. The brunette took her hand and kissed it, holding it to her chest as Sibella's grip tightened on her fingers. Sibella clutched at Monty's forearm as she sobbed.
Phoebe made the mistake of looking down towards the foot of the bed, and her head spun as she saw the amount of blood staining the bed linens. She held Sibella's hand tighter against her chest, making eye contact with the midwife. The older woman looked slightly concerned, which was deeply worrisome to Phoebe. Sibella started to shriek again, and Monty held her closer.
The next part happened quickly. Sweet words of encouragement mingled with Sibella's screams, and the midwife darted in with a blanket. After a moment where nothing could be heard except Sibella panting, Doctor Brownlee shot across the room to the midwife. The older woman looked at him, and Phoebe saw her shake her head slightly.
"I'm terribly sorry," he spoke softly, approaching the pair holding their lover. "The child... the child is not living."
"What?" asked Monty, unable to accept the words the doctor had given them.
"The baby is stillborn," said the midwife solemnly. "I'm so sorry, dears, I-" but she broke off abruptly. "Doctor, that's a lot of blood." All four heads turned to look.
There was blood everywhere. On the hands of both the doctor and the midwife, on Sibella's nightgown, soaking through all the sheets and towels.
"Doctor, she's still bleeding!"
And everything from then on was a blur to Phoebe. She was unable to tear her eyes from Sibella's face. The blonde was still crying, but the colour was slowly draining from her face. Before long, she was frighteningly pale, and her eyes began to roll back in her head. As she watched Sibella lean back into Monty, relaxing her hold on Phoebe's hand, the brunette suddenly realised that she could no longer hear Sibella breathing.
"Sibella?" Monty called. "Sibella?" he asked again when she did not respond. "Sibella!" His shout stopped the doctor and midwife in their tracks. Her head fell back, blonde curls tumbling over Monty's arm, brushing the pillows, and they both knew.
Now it was Phoebe's turn to scream.
