Lincoln Loud started the morning of Saturday, July 28 like he had every other for the past eight months: By checking on Lily.
It was a bright, balmy late summer morning and the central cooling system was on the fritz again, blowing air but not nearly enough to keep the house cool; he slept without and cover and stripped to his underwear, and when the alarm dragged him from sleep at 7am, he was drenched in warm, slimy sweat, the tangled state of the sheets attesting to a long, restless night. He slapped the OFF button and drew himself to a sitting position, his hand going to his achy head. The sunlight streaming through the window strung his eyes, and the chirping of birds greeting the new day made the dull throb in the center of his skull even worse. He hung his head and took a deep breath of stagnant air. He worked late last night and didn't drop into bed until almost midnight; he drifted off instantly and slept about seven hours, which was more than he needed in high school but nowhere near good enough now.
He started to nod off again, but snapped himself back. He rubbed his tired orbs with the heel of his palm and grainy flakes sprinkled onto his bare chest like sand. You're not supposed to use that much, Mr. Sandman, he thought wryly and got to his feet, throwing up his arms to steady himself. His feet were sore, his back was tight, and his knees shook - had anyone seen him, they would have been reminded of a toddler just learning to walk on its own. At least he imagined that's what he resembled, cuz he sure as hell felt like it.
When he trusted himself to keep his balance, he shambled over to the dresser, pulled out a pair of basketball shorts, and put them on. Leaving his chest naked, he went out into the shadowy hallway; slivers of light shone under the cracks of the flanking doors, but did little to dispel the closed up gloom. Lincoln blinked and gave his eyes a moment to adjust, then went to the bathroom, stopping at Lily's door long enough to poke his head in. She lay on her side in only a pair of panties and a thin, cottony T-shirt, her giant stomach beached and one arm jutting over the edge. Lincoln's bladder twinged, but he ignored it; squinting, he looked for the rise and fall of her breathing but didn't see it. Just to make sure, he crept to the side of the bed and bent over; she inhaled and exhaled with a cute, piggish snort that brought a smile to his lips. He reached out to stroke her sweaty hair, but his bladder twinged again, much harder this time.
Alright, alright.
He turned to leave, but stopped when he gaze fell on the bassinet in the corner. A changing table made of rich, darkly hued oak sat against the wall next to a stack of diapers. Lily's baby shower was the previous Friday, a small affair with just him, her, their sisters, and Mom and Dad. Lily glowed with happiness as everyone showered her with gifts - she kept a list of all the things they needed for Layna, and with every offering, she checked an item off with a pleased little smile. Oooh, I really wanted this, she would say. She reminded him of a little girl on Christmas morning, and if it was possible, his love for her increased ten times that day.
With a longing look at Lily, he went back into the hall, then into the bathroom. He pissed, then decided on a whim to take a shower. He peeled his damp briefs off, turned the knobs, and adjusted the temperature before climbing in. Water pounded against his chest and he threw his head back with a weary groan. He wasn't ready to be up yet, but he was in the habit of looking in on Lily; he'd always been a worrier, but he was worse with her...she was carrying his child, after all, and if you asked him, he'd say she was made of old brittle glass and mean it. He supervised every step she took with sickening dread, and lived in terror of her falling or pulling a muscle. Mom said he was worse than Mother Hubbard, and while Lincoln didn't know exactly what that meant, he figured Mother Hubbard was an overprotective helicopter parent, so yeah, it was an apt comparison.
Spinning so that the water hit his back now, he grabbed the bodywash, squeezed some onto his loofa, and lathered up, the abrasive fabric scrubbing away the sweat and grime he was too exhausted to care about the previous night. Done, he turned and let the water sluice the soap away, then ducked his head under the spray. Maybe he'd take a nap later before work. He did that sometimes, and every once in a blue moon, he did it with Lily. Cuddling, napping together, and, yes, even sex were things that they risked during the day now and again, but usually only when they hadn't had the chance to spend a satisfying amount of time with each other...which was a lot lately. Being Saturday, however, he'd have to doze alone - everyone was home and the odds of being discovered were too high to chance.
That depressed him. There was nothing more normal, more natural, than wanting to hold the girl you love in your arms...in wanting to hold the mother of your daughter. Yet because of...reasons...he could not freely do it.
Boo.
He considered doing it anyway, consequences be damned, but decided against it.
Cutting the water, he threw open the curtain, grabbed his towel from the wall mounted rack, and dried off. He stepped over the rim, the floor slick under his foot, and went to the sink. Hopefully the baby was active today; so far, he hadn't felt it move much, but Lily had. They'd be sitting on the couch together, and Lily would suddenly clutch her stomach with a grimace. Oof. You kicked mommy in the ribs. Most of Layna's movements were 'like a fluttering sensation' but sometimes she really let Lily have it and kicked the Jesus out of her. She didn't kick when he put his hand on Lily's stomach, though - the most he ever got was a faint ripple as she swam away...little a timid little goldfish. One time, she was going to town moving and thrashing like there's a party in mommy's belly and Layna's invited but the moment his palm touched Lily's skin, the baby went still. She's just shy, Lily said and patted her stomach, aren't you, Lay? You shouldn't be, though. That's your Daddy. He's really great.
Three weeks, he told himself and wiped the condensation from the mirror, three weeks until he finally got to meet his little girl.
His reflection smiled slyly back at him like a schoolboy waiting for his classmates to smell his silent but deadly presentation. After the building excitement of the last eight months, three weeks was nothing...but it seemed so far away. The closer something you desire very badly comes, it seems, the slower time runs.
Taking his toothbrush from the holder, he wetted it under the faucet, squeezed some toothpaste on, and scrubbed his teeth clean.
Being excited didn't mean he was completely over his nerves. In fact, he wasn't; being a father is a huge responsibility, and even though he drew confidence from Lily's love, like a plant taking nutrients from the warming light of the sun, he was still terrified at the possibility of bungling fatherhood the way he bungled pretty much everything else in his life. In fact, once or twice, while lying alone in bed and staring up at the ceiling, he found himself wishing Layna belonged to another man...a better man. She deserved a Dad who knew what he was doing, who could guarantee her everything she needed to flourish in life. Right now, he couldn't do that - he washed dishes and cut pizza toppings for a living. His car was two potholes away from falling apart, he had 100 dollars to his name, and even if he went back to school (which didn't look like it was going to happen), he'd come out holding a pretty wall-hanger with all the job market buying power of a rock. He'd be working for Sal until the day he died, what kind of life could he give his daughter under those conditions? Not much of one. A trailer, if she was lucky, Dollar Store Christmases, ill-fitting hand-me-downs from the Salvation Army? The thought of her poor and unhappy clutched Lincoln's heart in a vise grip of mortification, and raked feelings of shame and self-loathing in his stomach that had been dormant for months.
He owed it to her to do better in life - for not only her but her mother as well. He wasn't much of a man, but he was one, and it was his job to love, protect, and provide for them the way his own father loved, protected, and provided for him and his sisters.
With that in mind, he was planning on reapplying at Tyson Foods. It wasn't much, but as that motivational poster tier saying goes, every journey starts with a single step. His immediate priority after that was to get a newer car, one that didn't sound like it was freshly returned from the dead. Once he had those things out of the way, he needed to start saving. Lily would be twelve in September, which gave him six years to get himself established before she could legally move out of the house.
Spitting into the sink, he rinsed with mouthwash, checked his face for blight or blemish in the mirror, and went back to his room. It was just past seven-thirty; Lily wouldn't be up for another hour or so at least, so he had time to kill. He sat at his desk, opened his laptop, and logged into Discord. In his server, some dumbass named ToddRombo was talking up his genderbent version of Lincoln's headcanon, ABBAFAN69 posted a drawing of his Ace kids killing another artist's Ace kids, and Falgg1199 sperged out in another channel because people wouldn't accept Gen 3 Ace kids. Lincoln rolled his eyes; the autism is strong today. He checked his DMs and breathed a sigh of relief: RioXZD wanted another Ace x Queen of Spades commission. Rio was Lincoln's best customer: He was really pushing the Spa-Ce ship, commissioning multiple artists, writing greentexts on 4chan, and posting endless rants about why they were his OTP. Shes black and ace luvs bein BLACKED. The only thing was, he hated Jack and wanted the picture to include Jack crying in the corner because the Queen of Spades wouldn't give him a handjob or something, Lincoln didn't know, he was too busy totalling the cost in his head. Three characters, background, shading, coloring...that was fifty extra bucks he wasn't counting on. Sweet.
He clicked over to and checked his account balance: 350.59. After doing Rio's drawing, he'd have four hundred. Good. He'd been busting his ass all summer to gather up a little nest egg. It might not be much now, but it would grow over time - he refused to touch it, and if his math was correct, he wouldn't have to; he could get by on what he made now, even if just barely. He wasn't sure yet what he'd put it toward, but he liked the thought of it being there if he really needed it. Maybe he could keep adding to it and turn it into Layna's college fund.
Back on Discord, he watched with mild interest as Falgg and CorruptedWriting traded kissy faces (ew, what fags) and Dabadoxxer posted dab and swastika emojis. Dab was one of Lincoln's least favorite people in the whole fandom: He wore a dumb baseball cap with an extra long bill (compensating for something?) and prided himself on being edgy. He casually tossed around the N word, posted links to Moonman songs, and drew art that looked like it came straight from the sketchbook of a mentally disturbed tenth grader with FUTURE SCHOOL SHOOTER flashing in his fevered eyes.
In the HEADCANON channel, Neetgrass, Lincoln's chief mod and ass kisser, swooped in like the angel of death and attacked Falgg's Gen 3 HC. Lincoln agreed, Gen 3 Ace kids was a fucking retarded idea, but Neet was not the right person to argue against it: His logic was flawed, full of holes, and hypocritical. We already have too many Ace Kids, Neet said, we don't need anymore. He'd been saying that for months, but that didn't stop him from creating three (a goth, a trap, and a fucking pirate) and begging Lincoln to draw them so they'd catch on. He also claimed that the addition of a third generation would foster an anything goes atmosphere while, by the very nature of differing headcanons, the Ace Kids themselves did just that.
Sighing, Lincoln started to exit out, but Rex the Porn God showed up in the general chat and started throwing up links to butt stuff; Lincoln had to dash off a message warning him to keep it in the real porn channel.
Every channel is right channel when horny, Rex argued.
Dude, right channel.
Rex move to the porn channel and immediately started posts traps, futas, and chicks with dicks...which he knew Lincoln hated. Once upon a time, Rex was Lincoln's mod, but he kept intimidating everyone and abusing his powers - he even went so far as to create a special role for people that prevented them from accessing the server. He called it Killed By God and used it on anyone who annoyed him. He did it to TheBrodaciousB once, and B spent an hour crying in Lincoln's DMs about how unfair it was. Lincoln gave Rex warning after warning, but the Porn God downright refused to listen, at one point threatening to kick Lincoln out and take over server like it mine. He literally couldn't do that, since Lincoln was the owner, but the threat alone was enough to piss Lincoln off. He finally sacked him after he kicked Hospital out for havin dumb name.
I best mod, Rex groused. Everyone loves the Porngod.
No one replied, but a good ten people flocked to Lincoln's inbox to tell him how much they hated the bastard. WeirdJo said he frightens me, and PageOfDeviant threatened to leave if Lincoln made Rex mod again. Lincoln let Rex stay because, honestly, he was scared of him too - guy was nuts. Lincoln constantly had to save other members from Rex's incessant bullying. Even Em041, the toughest guy in the fandom, cringed before the wrath of Rex.
Sigh.
You know...if most of his commissions didn't come from people on Discord, he'd nuke the server.
Since Lily got pregnant, he'd been spending a lot less time on Discord...and he was far happier than he'd been in a long time; getting away from the drama and petty fandom politics really helped him put things in perspective. Such as the fact that none of that shit mattered. It didn't impact his life one bit negatively or positively, save for the money he made. At the end of the day, he logged off, walked away, and that was that - the fandom stayed where it was and after a little while in the real world, he realized just how meaningless it was. Heh. Drawing fan pictures and writing fan stories. It was fun, don't get him wrong, but he (and people like him) had a way of putting too much stock into it; they lost sight of the fact that they were grown men making art of a cartoon. They strutted around because they were the best and people loved them...then they closed out of their computers and went back to being geeky, socially-awkward neckbeards no one cared about.
Having had enough for one day, Lincoln exited out of Discord and checked 4chan.
His stomach rumbled, and with a sigh, he closed the computer and got up. He'd get started on Rio's commission later. First, he needed breakfast.
For Lily Loud, the past month had been difficult...like really difficult, so difficult that she would call it a living nightmare under other circumstances. Carrying Layna, and feeling her kick, and rubbing her belly while baby-talking to her brightened her spirits exponentially, so likening it to a bad dream wasn't entirely right, but...yeah, it was close. She was eight months pregnant and big as a house; everything hurt; moving was hard; she was always drained; and the air conditioner didn't work right, so she was always hot and lightly coated in sweat. Ugh. Knowing that it would all pay off in three short weeks, however, the misery was a little more manageable than it might have been otherwise, but not by much. Swimming groggily up from the depths of sleep that late July morning, the first thing Lily became aware of was the ever present pangs in her lower back. A moan burst from her throat and she rolled, the alien sensation of her stomach swishing bringing her fully out of sleep - sometimes it felt like she had a giant water balloon in her guts. That, of course, was amniotic fluid, which fills the membrane sack in which the baby develops. Think of the womb as a fishbowl, and the baby as a little minnow - the fluid is all important to its survival and, Lily figured, the most natural part of the whole process. That didn't make getting used to being filled with the stuff any easier, though; if she turned too quickly, she could feel it sloshing around, and if she wasn't careful, it would upset her balance.
On her back, she pried her gummy eyes open and raked her fingers through her matted blonde hair; her skin was flush and slick with perspiration, and her heart raced far quicker than it should have for just lying supine in bed. Must have run a marathon in my dreams, she thought sardonically even though she knew she didn't - she had weird dreams lately, but not that weird. Come to think of it, most of them centered on eating. Layna was such a pig, she liked everything; Lily constantly found herself eating things she hated before and loving them. Like brussel sprouts and broccoli. Apparently, Layna was going to be a veggie lover. Crazy, right? She did love sweets, though; just last week Lily was rooting around in the pantry for something to nibble on and alighted upon a box of Hostess cupcakes. Lifting up on her tippy toes, she grabbed it, took one out, unwrapped it, and crammed it into her mouth - she'd had a million of these things in her life, and while they were good, they were never oh my god, I'm cumming good. She had a second, and a third, then, looking suspiciously around, she shoved the box under her shirt and hurried upstairs, where she finished off the rest in secret, pounding one after another until the box was empty and Layna was happy.
Mom, on the other hand, wasn't. Where are my cupcakes? she asked and put her hands on her hips. She stood before the pantry with a puzzled scowl on her face. Lily was going to lie, but decided not to, since it was probably crystal clear where they went.
Uh...Layna happened to them, she said and hung her head. Mom sighed deeply but didn't chastize her; being pregnant, Lily learned, was kind of like carte blanche. She got away with lots of things she wouldn't have otherwise, like staying up late, since pregnancy induces insomnia sometimes, and talking back. A few weeks ago, Lola was doing her snotty princess routine because Dad wouldn't let her borrow the car, and for some reason, it grated on Lily's nerves so bad she snapped. Shut up, you're not using the car, get over it, drama queen. Normally Lola would have lowered her brow, crossed her arms, and snapped back, but knowing Lily's mood swings, she only flashed a strained smile and walked away.
If she was a bad person, she could totally exploit this, but no, her family was bearing with her as best they could, and taking advantage of them would be really lowdown.
Taking a deep breath, she rocked from side to side like a turtle on its back and rolled onto her side, then pushed herself to a sitting position. Her heart raced faster and vertigo overcame her. She started to fall off the bed, but caught herself at the last minute. Splaying her hands on either side of her, she got hesitantly to her feet, making sure they could support her, then stood. The good news was: Getting out of bed was the hardest part of her day, and now it was done. Thank goodness. The bad: She'd been up two seconds and she was already winded.
It was gonna be a looooong day.
Taking a tentative step forward just to make extra sure she was ready, she went to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She slipped her panties down, letting them hit the floor, then went over to the toilet and sat, her legs spread far apart to acommodate her planet sized stomach. As she peed, she glanced at her underwear and pursed her lips; there was no way in heck she'd be able to bend over and get them, so there they would stay until Mom picked them up...without complaint because again, I can get away with murder *pretty smile*
Since she was accustomed to being small and compact, the physical limitations that came with carrying a baby were not only annoying but surprising as well. Like, wow, I can't do this, this, that, or this anymore? Okay then. Take, uh, dropping a pencil, for instance. Bending over to pick it up is the most normal thing in the world, one of those reflex actions you don't even have to think about beforehand. With her stomach in the way, she couldn't do it, but her brain still hadn't received the message. Rather, it did...then it misplaced it and forgot all about it. Yesterday, she was munching cookies as she waddled to the bathroom; one fell out of her hand and she automatically went to get it, only for her back to twinge and her stomach to block her like a muscular bodyguard. Sorry, Miss, you're not on the list. As much as it pained her, she had to leave the poor cookie behind.
Done, she flushed, got to her feet, and made her way back to the room. Since she was polite and considerate, she grabbed her underwear with her toes and dragged them with her. She kicked them aside, went to the closet, and took out the first maternity dress she saw: Black and billowy with purple splotches and a square neckline that put her in mind of fat, frumpy trailer park grandmothers. She hated these things, but they were light, breathable, roomy, and easy to put on and take off.
She whipped off her T-shirt, pulled the dress over her head, then left the room again. Voices drifted up the stairs, and as she approached the top of the stairs, a sharp peal of laughter ran through the house. Sounded like Lana - probably picking on Lola again. Sigh. Her sisters were the most irritating creatures of the face of the earth. Like, grow up already, will you? I'm eleven and I'm more adult than all four of you combined. Except Lisa, so three. And once I have my baby, I'll really be a woman...while you stay little girls. Lol.
Laying her hand on the bannister, Lily paused to take a deep breath; her heart and lungs throbbed in terrible unison and the edges of her vision strained. If she wasn't careful, she'd fall and break her neck. She regulated her breathing, then went carefully down the steps one by one, her hand tightly gripping the railing. At the bottom, she clenched her teeth at the pain in her chest and wheezed for air; she was dizzier now, and for a second she thought she was going to lose consciousness.
This happened sometimes but not often this strong. It went with the territory, though - you can't create and sustain a whole person without a few adverse side effects. They say it takes two to tango; they're right, but come on, what does the father really have to do with the process aside from offering moral support? He provides the initial spark in the form of his sperm, but it falls to the mother's body to do literally everything else. Kind of not fair if you ask me; Daddys should have to give up some of their energy too. I mean, Layna's sucking all mine up, the least Lincoln can do is let me have some of his.
A yawn ripped from her throat as she crossed through the living room. See? She slurps it all up and leaves almost nothing left for me. God really should have made people with, like, USB capabilities, so Lincoln can plug in and transfer some of his energy to me.
Okay, well, technically, we already did that, which is what got us into this in the first place, but you know what I mean. Gutter mind
Lola, Lana, Lucy, Mom, Dad, and Lincoln sat at the dining room table over cups of coffee and plates of eggs and bacon. Lisa was nowhere in sight; most likely couldn't pull away from her work. Whatever that was nowadays - she was very secretive about her projects, and absolutely forbade anyone from entering her lab under any circumstances. Maybe Lily's imagination was too big for her own good (heh, that's not the only thing big on me lately), but she kind of suspected nefarious goings on...like messed up experiments and stuff. A dog with the intelligence of a man, maybe, or a spider-monkey hybrid that spent its days seething with hatred and plotting escape, whereupon it would run wild through the house, mating all the females and killing the males...violently.
Shiver.
"Morning, honey," Dad said.
"Morning," Lily said.
Mom pointed toward the kitchen. "There's some -"
Before she could finish, Lincoln jumped up and motioned Lily to take his spot. Normally, she'd protest, but her heart was racing real fast, her back hurt, and her head was still kind of spinning, so she sat with a grunted, "Thank you." She smiled up at him, and his hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out and touch her face but stopped himself at the last minute. He might have risked it a couple months ago and played it off and pinching her cheek or something, but they'd slipped and acted really affectionate with each other lately - the baby was almost here and their emotions were supercharged, so could you blame him if he hugged her and kissed her forehead in front of their parents, or if she put her hand on his leg while they sat together on the couch? Last month, Mom took Lincoln aside and thanked him for being there for your sister, and they spent a week worrying she was onto them...toying with them the way a cat does a wounded mouse, or perhaps sounding them out to gather intelligence.
It didn't look like Mom suspected anything, but they had to be careful going forward - they had a daughter to raise, and the last thing Lily wanted was for her parents to send him away. Layna needed her daddy...and Lily needed her Lincy.
That meant they needed to cool it on the PDA - that stands for public displays of affection, as per Royal County Elementary, and they did not tolerate it at all (funny, they're fine with someone bullying you but not with someone holding your hand - shows you where our school systems' priorities lie). Therefore, she would simply pretend she was at school, 24/7. So far, they'd done pretty well in keeping things on the DL (that means downlow), but every once in a while they slipped. Like now: Before she could stop herself, Lily reached out, took Lincoln's hand, and swept her thumb across his knuckles. He closed his fingers around her wrist and lovingly stroked the heel of her palm; a simple, fleeting touch, yet it made Lily's heartbeat speed up anyway.
"Do you want breakfast?" he asked softly. His eyes sparkled with love, pride, and acceptance - even though she was basically a stomach with legs and her hair was messier than usual...and despite the dark bags under her eyes and the sallow hue of her skin...he thought she was beautiful. You could see it plain as day, and warm, woolen fluffiness flooded Lily's chest. She didn't know why he loved her the way he did, but she was endlessly thankful that he did, and in that moment, she vowed to herself, not for the first time, to be the best wife and mother possible...for him.
She nodded, her lips pulling up in a smile so tight it hurt her face. "Yeah," she said.
None of their sisters spared them a single glance, and neither, for that matter, did their parents. Maybe they were used to the way she and Lincoln interacted. They had always been close; it's easy to get lost in the fog of your own paranoia and forget that something like a brother and sister being together is so uncommon that most outside observers wouldn't even consider it, the way a rational man wouldn't jump to the conclusion that the bump he heard in the night was caused by a ghost. She and Lincoln shared a guilty conscious, and second guessed every move they made, like a drunk trying his hardest to walk straight and not slur his words. They had to be careful, of course, but...you know what? If they slipped now and then, it wasn't the end of the world. And if Mom or Dad started asking tough questions, Lily fully planned to gaslight them. You think me and Lincoln what? You're out of your mind, that's sick! Hey, all's fair in love and war, and to her, that included convincing your parents that there's something mentally wrong with them - come on, really, who thinks something like that?
Lincoln let go of her hand and disappeared into the kitchen; Lily watched him go, her eyes darting to his butt (tight and firm in his jeans, yum), then turned to the table with a dreamy sigh. Dad's face was hidden now behind his newspaper (PRESIDENT CALLS CHINA "AUTISTIC") and Mom stared down into her mug, clutched in both hands and trembling slightly as though she were shivering. From the sharp, downward turn of her lips, Lily assumed -
That thought cut off when a tight steel band closed around Lily's chest and squeezed; the air left her lungs in a burst and her heart crushed. A grimace of pain flickered across her face and she bore her teeth, Ow. Come on, I'm not even doing anything, I'm just sitting here! Perfectly still or not, her heart throbbed like an abscessed tooth and breathing was hard. She inhaled slowly through her mouth, then exhaled. He head swam and she suddenly felt like she was going to be sick.
Lincoln came out of the kitchen with a plate and sat it in front of her. Eggs, bacon, sausage links, and a slice of toast cut down the center. The smell wafted into Lily's nose, and her stomach pitched. Her heart slammed faster, jackhammering, and an icepick of agony punctured her skull. She pressed her hand to her forehead and panted for air. "You alright?" Lincoln asked worriedly.
She tried to reply, but her airways were locked, her chest heaving as panic flooded her like a black tide. Everyone was looking at her now with varying shades of concern and she fought to catch her breath but couldn't. She bent slightly forward, her hands splaying on the edge of the table, and a wave of dizziness crashed over her.
Something was wrong.
And she was starting to get scared.
Lincoln touched her shoulder and said something, but his voice was muffled and distorted, like a noise heard underwater. Grayness, like the twilight of a gloomy day, stole across her vision, and her heart leapt in fear. Mom and Dad got to their feet and came hurriedly over. "Something's wrong with her," Mom said, her voice dripping with alarm.
For some reason, that more than anything else, even the blinding pain in her chest, made it real, and as she sank into the darkness, her fear turned to clawing, kicking, screaming, hysterical terror.
Her eyes rolled back into her head and her body went limp; she tipped to one side but Lincoln caught her; everyone crowded around, talking excitedly at once. Lincoln laid her out on the floor and stared down at her with wide, traumatized eyes, thoughts and emotions racing in a blur, one indistinguishable from another. His heart blasted and his hands trembled when he lifted them to her face. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly, her skin was a deathly shade of ashen, and her lips were tinged with blue.
Dad knelt on her other side and slipped his arm under her head; his features were contorted in fear and when he spoke, his words came out in a broken stream. "Lily? Lily?" He tapped her cheek, and Lincoln could only watch, frozen in place, his body struck dumb. Mom stood behind him, tearfully talking into her phone; he couldn't hear her over the ringing in his ears. His gaze went to Lily's face, so warm and beautiful but now so pale and haggard, and all at once, a strangled sob escaped his lips.
By the time the paramedics arrived and carried her away, he was cold and numb, his mind sluggish like a river of molasses. He'd been scared many times in his life, but never more than he was now.
Lily was going to die.
He knew it.
And with her, their daughter.
The two most precious things in his life were going to be taken away from him...and somehow, he knew, he did something to deserve it.
That's when he began to cry...and he didn't stop for a very long time.
