Chapter 8: New Year's Arrival

Erika leaned heavy into the bedroom wall, forgetting how to support herself as pain possessed her body. Nadir had his hands against her hips in an instant. He felt her muscles coiling under his palms.

"Breathe through it," he softly reminded.

The contractions hadn't stopped like he'd hoped. Gray mid-afternoon sunlight now bleached the world outside, and the pain was only getting more intense. When a new contraction started, it kept its claws in her for longer than the one before it. Now, it seemed Nadir's massage was doing very little to help.

It was difficult to find the presence of mind to slow her breathing, but Erika managed until she could relax again. Her fists unclenched against the wallpaper. She unbuttoned the collar of her nightshirt. Her skin was sweltering. The icy draft seeping from the window was wonderful to feel.

Nadir took her hand. "I think that's enough pacing. Will you at last lie down and relax?"

Erika side-eyed him and shook her head.

He sighed, and noticed her face was starting to shine with sweat. "Would you like a cold rag?"

A nod.

"And perhaps a drink of water?"

Another nod. She said absolutely nothing. She hadn't said a word in two hours.

That was her survival method: silence. When the fear – or the pain – was too much, her voice ceased to work. It had allowed her to hide from a drunken mother as a small child. It had kept her obedient and safe from beatings as carnie property. She very much knew it saved her life the night...the night her virginity was stolen from her. Most importantly, silence made her a deadly ally to the Shah – and it aided her in escaping his clutches. Silence was safety. If only she could remain quiet, everything would be alright.

Nadir brought her hand to his lips. "I won't be long."

As soon as the bedroom door shut behind him, Nadir began readying himself for prayer. He hadn't prayed diligently since Reza's death, and surely Allah was furious with him. But perhaps, with enough penance, he could be forgiven. He had no other choice. Prayer was all he could offer Erika and the child about to be born.

Terror pricked his every nerve as he bowed in the center of his rug, in the presence of his god for the first time in years. In his native tongue, he begged. He begged, not only forgiveness of his sins, but for the lives of the only two loved ones he had left.

Erika heard Nadir's prayers, understood every word of what he asked for...and knew she wasn't going to be getting a drink of water anytime soon.

In his absence, she tried to prepare before the next wave of pain arrived. She was able to make it to the bed before her legs gave out under the force of another contraction. It snuck up much sooner than she was expecting. She had to bite down on a corner of the blanket to keep herself from crying out.

She had an impressive tolerance for pain – desensitized over years of abuse. She had continued walking on a fractured ankle. She had sewn up her wounds with needle and thread. As a young teenager, she had broken her own wrist to escape her bonds.

Yet, this level of agony was nothing she had known before. It died and came back stronger, like a phoenix impaling her with scalding talons.

Sitting was unbearable because of the pressure in her hips and lying down did nothing except make her restless. She settled on hands and knees atop the mattress, rocking her hips as if that would stop the pain. She just wanted the horrible process to be over with, so she could pretend it never happened to begin with.

She lost track of time, slipping into a trance as she listened to the sung prayers through the wall. Those prayers. She loved listening to them while in Persia. Back when Nadir would pray five times a day, Erika would sit outside the room and listen without him knowing. The prayers held a hypnotic effect, and now Erika lost herself in the sound of Nadir's voice while bracing through several more contractions.

It was a moderate flood, like a heavy menstrual flow; but the change it brought was immediate and intense. With the release of her waters, something shifted to sit dangerously low in her pelvis.

"Nadir!"

The scream from the other room ripped Nadir from his prayers and damn near stopped his heart. He sprung to his feet and was in the bedroom in seconds. "What's wrong?!"

Erika couldn't answer before her breath was taken by the most intense contraction she'd felt. She curled around herself – shuddering with all the frightening and overwhelming sensations happening at once.

Nadir was petrified to the spot. He watched in helpless horror as his beloved was tortured by her own body. He had only the most basic of insight as to what happened to women in the later stages. They'd crossed that threshold, and the realization crashed over him what was about to happen. He ran to do what should have been done earlier.

He returned with a full washbasin, a ladle, and fresh linens over his arm. The first thing he did once his hands were free was offer Erika a drink from the ladle, which she impatiently took.

"Leave me again," Erika snarled, glaring him in the eye, "and I swear I will...I will..." Her eyes glimmered with collecting tears, and the glare softened into a pleading gaze. "Don't leave me again."

It was all Nadir could do not to lose his composure right then. "I'm here," he said, brushing the length of her hair over her shoulder. "I'm here."

He wrung a small cloth in the cool water and draped it over the back of her neck. "You should lie down."

Erika shook her head. "No, this feels right." She lowered her weight onto her forearms as another contraction started. She could no longer ignore the building pressure, and she screamed behind closed lips as – finally – she pushed against it.

"You're alright." Nadir sat on the edge of the bed, his hand on the small of her back. He felt every fiber of her body working to expel the child. "Do what you must."

Perhaps it was delirium – or insanity – but in that moment of extreme pain, Erika's only concern was what would happen if the babe didn't make it.

Would Nadir hate her, for killing another of his children?

Erika couldn't have the blood of another child on her hands, she simply couldn't. Reza's death tore her asunder, even if it was in the name of mercy.

This child's death would have no excuse. The thought of innocence dying inside her – poisoned by her deformed body – made her feel ill.

The pain faded, and Erika's mind returned to her as she released her held breath. She tugged at the open collar of the nightshirt, sitting to rest on her heels.

"Oh," she gasped, realizing the quilt was dampened under her. As it turned out, not all her water had been released in one flow. "I'm sorry."

Nadir spread a linen towel under her. "Sheets can always be cleaned," he muttered, trying to keep his voice low to hide its tremor. "Ignore the sheets."

He dutifully stood at the bedside, offering support in any way he could. Despite the encouragement he would whisper, and the ladles of water he would offer, he had never felt so useless in his life. There was little to no time between Erika's fits anymore. To both, there seemed to be no end of it in sight. Until:

"Wet it," Erika snatched the cloth from her neck and tossed it at Nadir.

Nadir obeyed and went to drape it back in place. Instead, Erika stole it from his grip and slipped it under the skirt of her nightwear. "Why are you-?"

"Because I'm on fire!" she cried, bearing down again. Something pressed out further into her hand, and she drew it away in a panic.

Everything happened so suddenly after that. The hem of the nightshirt was tied around her waist, revealing bright spots of blood on the towel. Erika clung to Nadir's arms to keep herself upright. Her fingernails left crescents in his skin. One hand still held the dripping rag, occasionally holding it to her mouth to muffle the strangled screaming.

Dread compelled her to keep her eyes shut. She could feel her body opening around the child's head in ways she didn't want to see. Her eyes would remain shut for the rest of the day if need be. She didn't want to see the child. She didn't want the wave of disgust and loathing she would feel. She didn't want to know how her genes had ruined the child's life.

A sudden slip and small release of pressure broke her focus. She opened her eyes and tears spilled down her face. Her breath was shallow and uneven. Nadir kissed her temple, beard tickling her cheek.

"They're almost here," he whispered against her ear. "You've done so well."

She'd been so primal in her focus; she hadn't noticed the sheet being held against her inner thigh. Nor how Nadir positioned his hands in the same place.

Erika took a moment to rest her head against his shoulder. A shiver traveled through her, although she wasn't cold. A low growl escaped her lips as she started to contract, and she forced her remaining energy down into a last desperate effort.

For a few seconds there was a horrific, tearing pain. Then, a give – and in one rush of movement and water, it was done. Nadir produced a quivering shout as he guided the child into his hands. No doubt a sound of shock, now that he'd seen what monster he'd fathered.

Erika kept her glazed-over eyes on the far wall, drunk on relief and too exhausted to think. Just inches from her, Nadir was sobbing and shouting in Persian. However, she heard his words and realized – they were shouts of praise and thanks, not distress.

She heard a tiny cough, and then a shrill, lustful cry.

Without a thought, she looked down.

Suddenly, there was a third person in the room. A small, grey person covered in waxy vernix and tangled in a blue cord of flesh. Nadir was toweling dry a head of thick black hair. Little hands of five fingers, and little feet of five toes flailed in the air – while a scrunched-up face screamed its arrival to the whole apartment. A healthy, perfectly complete, little boy.

Unsure what she was doing, Erika took hold of the slippery cord and untangled it from around the infant. Surprised, Nadir looked up at her. She had enough attention to notice fresh tears on his cheeks, but her focus was on the newborn.

Nadir almost panicked when Erika scooped his son into her hands. For a fraction of a second, he feared she was about to do something rash; but the expression on her face put him at ease. However, the Mirage had never held an infant in her life. Nadir quickly supported his son's head as Erika pulled him into her arms.

"Mind his head," he said, adjusting Erika's hold on the slick newborn. He stood there in astonishment, overwhelmed and confused by Erika's actions. He eyed her like a hawk, watching for any sign that she was about to cause the infant harm. And yet...the sight of his beloved, cradling their child to her body as gently as she could, blurred that watchful eye with tears.

Erika was none the wiser of her intentions. She was just overcome by the need to hold this child. This astonishing, perfect miniature human screaming in her arms. Her thumb wiped away white vernix from his eyebrow. He was velvet soft and so, so warm.

Nadir covered him with the bloodied towel and stepped back to compose himself, drying his eyes on his sleeves. Erika watched him, bewildered to see him act in such a way. It wasn't until Nadir wiped her eyes with the damp rag that she realized...she was in no better shape. Why was she suddenly sobbing?

In her mind, Erika meant to ask that very question when she drew in a breath. Instead, the question that came out was: "We made this?"

Nadir laughed through his tears and pressed a kiss to her lips. "We did, my love. We did."