Michaela arrived at the top of the stairs, as Rebecca was pacing tiredly from Penelope's room. "Is everything all right, Michaela?" she enquired with a warm, yet distracted smile, feeling slightly fed up with the two squabbling children.
"Fine," Michaela dismissed, as the pair made their way down the corridor towards Brian's room.
"Good. William's certainly been attentive." Rebecca glanced over at her younger sister, as Michaela looked sharply at her.
"Actually, Rebecca I needed to ask you. Tomorrow, I have an appointment with William at twelve. Might you come with me?" She arrived by the door to her bedroom, her sister worrying immediately.
"Is something wrong? He wasn't going to be seeing you until Wednesday," Rebecca stopped by Michaela's side.
"Nothing is wrong," she looked away awkwardly, afraid of her sister's reaction to the proposed action. "Rebecca, William came to see me this evening because he changed his mind. He says there is a way he can help me," Michaela eyed her sister suspiciously, not sure where Rebecca stood morally.
"Help you? You mean," she searched awkwardly for the most appropriate word. Michaela noticed her hesitance immediately.
"He can induce labor," she spoke candidly, however, reminded herself of her earlier discussions with the physician.
"And that is what you want?" Rebecca queried, despite being certain of the answer.
She brought her right hand to the doorknob, and kept her gaze lowered. "You don't approve. You believe this is wrong," Michaela's voice was monotone and cold.
"That's not true, Michaela. Until I arrived at the hospital on Friday evening, I held exactly the same conventional views as I suppose you did until you found out. I believe you are doing what you feel is best. Therefore, whatever you deicide, is 'right' in my mind." Rebecca brushed her sister's arm lightly.
"You'll come with me, tomorrow?" Michaela's voice was unusually low and wavering.
"Of course. I'll support you no matter what, Michaela. The children have school, and I'm sure Ellen wouldn't mind watching Brian," she paused, and drew a breath. "Michaela, is it dangerous?" Rebecca whispered, her sister glancing back up at her slowly.
"Yes," she muttered with all honesty.
"Then I'm glad William cares for you as he does," Rebecca smiled more confidently, Michaela catching on to the end of her reply.
"Rebecca, last year when we were here. Mother said he was a good man, and I know that. Tonight, he," she shrugged the sentence away and continued. "Am I foolish to expect him to forgive such dishonor?" Michaela frowned, waiting for her sister to take in her meaning.
"That's not really something I can say, Michaela. If he won't, then he's not worth your time. However, from the care he's shown you," Rebecca saw the confusion sweep across her sister's face.
"He touched me. Maybe I perceived it incorrectly. I've forgotten how different proprieties are here," Michaela sighed, trying to dismiss the complication.
"I doubt that you overreacted, although I am surprised he would behave in such a forward manner," Rebecca frowned defensively.
"So was I. It was probably my fault. Matters aren't talked about as openly here, I probably confused him." Michaela sighed, feeling both physically and emotionally drained from the long day.
"He has been incredibly attentive, Michaela. Even at the hospital, he defended your reputation to the other doctors." Rebecca saw Michaela turn away.
"How could he still feel the same way?" Michaela whispered.
"Because you're still the same person. Your intellect, your passion, your empathy. The qualities that William admired about you are still there, Michaela," Rebecca reached for her sister's hands.
"I don't even know if I could," Michaela heard Rebecca's voice interrupt her.
"Ssh. You don't need to worry about that for now," Rebecca shook her head with a tender smile. "Have an early night, I've got two fighting children to separate," Rebecca rolled her eyes.
"Brian? What's he done? Becca, I'm sorry." She looked towards the child's bedroom worriedly.
"Don't be silly, they're children. I think Penny was insisting they played house. Brian was fed up, and hid Josephine," Rebecca recounted the events with motherly humor.
"Josephine?" Michaela frowned, leaning back up against the closed door.
"One of Penelope's dolls. I assure you, it's completely under control. They're in their rooms reading and then maybe they'll learn to appreciate having each other to spend time with." She crossed the hallway as Michaela opened her bedroom door.
"Thank-you." Michaela whispered, stepping into the room.
"You never have to thank me. Sleep well," Rebecca smiled, as Michaela disappeared through the doorway.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela had spent several hours tossing and turning. She couldn't sleep on her stomach, and her back ached. Finally, with a pillow wedged under her knees, and tucked up into a small ball on her side, she had drifted to sleep.
It wasn't very late, only about eleven, when she stirred slightly at the sound of a door opening. She dismissed it and was about to force her eyes closed again when it returned, only this time, closer. A stream of dull light from the corridor fell across the bed, and Michaela squinted her eyes open. It was her door.
She sat up awkwardly and looked towards the door.
"Ma? Ya awake, Ma?" Brian leaned around the ajar door, his voice small and scared.
"Hmm, I am now." She rubbed her forehead and beckoned him into the room. "What are you still doing awake? Ssh, close the door, Brian, you'll disturb everyone," Michaela watched as Brian obeyed her instructions, and paced across to the side of the bed.
"I had a bad dream. Ain't had one for ages and, then when I woke up, I didn't know where I was or where you were," The young boy fidgeted with the sleeves of his oversized pajamas.
Michaela shook her head, "Brian." She looked him up and down, noticing the tears in his eyes. Without uttering a sound, she pushed back the embroidered quilt, and moved over.
"Thought you'd say I was too old, that I had to go back to bed?" he challenged, carefully slipping between the sheets.
"It's all right, this once. We are in a strange place," Michaela reached across to hand the boy a spare pillow, and they both settled back down snugly.
"Ma?" He waited until the room was silent.
"Hmm?" Michaela turned on her right side, to face the child, her hands tucked under her face.
"Are you really going away? And sendin' me home on my own?" He scrunched up his pillow under his head, just able to see her face through the dim moonlight.
"No, sweetheart," she brought her hand forwards to tenderly stroke his disheveled hair.
"Coz yesterday you said."
"I know but that won't be happening any longer. Brian, tomorrow I'm going to see Dr Burke and he's going to do an operation and then in a week we can go home," Michaela tucked her hand back under her head.
"What kinda operation, Ma?" Brian's voice grew slightly louder, in worry.
"You don't need to worry about that but, everything will be better, and we can go home. Back to your brother and sister," Michaela smiled, as Brian closed the gap between them, his head fitting comfortably under her chin. His eyes dropped closed, as his breath regulated against the sound of his mother's breathing.
"Nothin's gonna happen to you, is it, Ma?" he whispered after a long silence.
Michaela was almost to sleep when she heard the boy's soft mutter. Reaching her left arm around to his upper back, she patted him tenderly.
"Did you have another dream about something happening, Brian? Is that why you're asking?" Michaela tried to dismiss the nervousness building in her chest; she knew the planned procedure was risky.
"Uh-huh. That when you were havin' the baby, it died, then you died. Like Miss Abigail," Brian kept his hands clutched tightly to his chest, the space between them narrowing as he edged his way closer.
"Were you there for that, sweetheart?" Michaela frowned, hearing the undisguised tremor in the child's voice.
"Yeah. Ma was there with Colleen. Can't remember much. I was five I think. I just remember that me and Matthew and Sully were out in the barn with Mr. Bray, and that it took a real long time, and everyone was gettin' worried and then Ma came out and they tried to get her to a doctor but Matthew said it was too late, and she and the baby both died. I dunno, my head musta got confused. I keep worryin' that somethin' bad's gonna happen to you when you're asleep, like it did at the hotel and then I check that you're all right and you are but then the next time I feel like if I don't check, then it'll be too late," Brian allowed his eyes to drop closed again, smelling the freshly laundered scent of her nightgown only inches from his nose.
"Brian, you remember when Dorothy's son came into the homestead that night," Michaela began.
"And ya shot him," Brian remembered instantly.
"Yes and Colleen became scared. Do you remember what I told her?" Michaela ran her hand over the boy's head, and unconsciously noticed the small circular indentation from the trephine scalpel.
"That, that we can't always be afraid. Coz then we'll never do stuff, Was the same thing you told me when we went on the picnic and I tried to do what you said, didn't I?" He opened his eyes and glanced up at her.
"I know you tried, Brian but," Michaela trailed off, as her breath caught in her throat.
A tight pressure radiated across her stomach, for only a brief moment. Something felt different. She paused, and moved away ever so slightly from Brian, hoping the sensation would dissipate.
"And it was only coz of what happened at the hotel, Ma, coz I really thought everything was gonna be all right and then it, Ma?" Brian felt his mother pull away from his side and roll quickly over onto her back.
Michaela felt every inch of her consciousness pulled unrelentingly down to her lower abdomen. Until now, the fluttering movement that had disturbed her so greatly Friday had not returned; she'd allowed herself to ignore the memory of it. Until this very moment. She'd forgotten how compelling it was. Maybe moving slightly would make it stop.
"Brian, uh, so then, what did you do?" she stammered, feeling her hands, now by her side, clench into fists and push down on the mattress either side of her hips. Make it stop, make it go away.
The young boy adjusted his head on the pillow and quickly remembered where he was up to. "Well, that's when you said to not tell Grandma and then you went to sleep and wouldn't wake up and so I ran downstairs to get help, and, Ma?" Despite the darkened room, Brian could still see her face; her eyes were closed deliberately, and he could see her lips silently moving.
She opened her eyes and turned back onto her right side. Brian perceived the look on her face as discomfort.
"Ma?" He raised his head and propped it up in his left hand.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, go on," Michaela instructed, although she'd not been concentrating on his words in the least.
Why now? Why did it have to come back right now? I don't want to think about it, to know it's there. I know it's there.
Michaela felt the gentle bubbling migrate slightly, from the left of her lower abdomen across to the center.
"Brian, do you think you might be able to fall asleep now?" Michaela focused her attention forcefully on the child's confused face.
"Sure, I can try," he whispered, feeling the coolness in her body language and the disregard in her voice.
She rubbed his arm a final time, however, Brian perceived immediately, there was not the same warmth in her touch there had been before. He felt her move away.
"Ma, ya mad at me?" His voice was small.
"No, Brian. Please, go to sleep," Michaela replied dryly.
"Yes, Ma." He closed his eyes, not tired, but not wanting to make her angry with him either.
Michaela watched the small boy's eyes drop closed and rolled once again onto her back. The incessant rumbling continued, stronger than it had been the last time she'd experienced it. At least her lower back pain had disappeared, although Michaela suspected she would have preferred the discomfort.
I can't sleep, I can't think. Stop it, please, just.
She brought her right hand automatically to her stomach, lightly touching the spot where she'd last felt the baby's presence. Her nightgown was thin, and Michaela hadn't until that moment realized just how firm her lower abdomen had become. She'd seen how much weight she'd gained, particularly the previous morning when changing, Michaela had noticed her swollen stomach.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, so softly that no sound could be heard.
Michaela kept her right hand against her abdomen for several minutes, adjusting to the feeling of her altered shape. She reflected in that short span of time, the nights she'd spent over the last few weeks in this same position. She thought forwards to tomorrow, allowing the relief to wash over her. Within two days it would all be over.
She couldn't deny the apprehension, but, as a doctor, she knew that was to be expected. She reassured herself quickly. William graduated top of his class and that was Harvard, Michaela. If anyone can do this safely, he can.
Her mind drifted back over William's advances this evening.
Rebecca is right, he has inconvenienced himself for me. Why would he do that? Why did he place his hand on my shoulder? Perhaps I am reading too much into the gesture. How did he know I would welcome the advance? Did I welcome it?
She reflected on the affectionate sparkle in his eyes as she'd had turned from the piano this morning.
He still respects me. In spite of what he knows.
She brushed her fingertips over her firm stomach once again. Remember what you promised yourself, Michaela. That death would be preferable.
The pestering flutter moved once again, this time back over to the left side. As she tried to get used to the sensation, her mind began a confused bantering back and forth.
Are you listening to yourself? Death? You'd really rather be dead? Yes, I would. Don't be ridiculous. Michaela Quinn, you'd throw away everything you have achieved, all your life accomplishments, because of the inconvenience of a pregnancy?
She pulled her hands sharply away from her stomach, starting to realize she was not detesting the sensation as much as she had initially; as much as she should be. The conversation in her head continued. This is not just 'a pregnancy'. If it were that simple, there would be no dilemma. This is not about the pregnancy. This is about the people I love; my family, my children. This is about not allowing their reputations to be ruined because of. Because of what, Michaela? There you go, about to blame yourself again. Stop it!
She looked over, suddenly remembering the child next to her. She watched him for several moments. He was sleeping peacefully, his face angelic and relaxed. She watched his chest rise and fall steadily, his lips pursed adorably, only slightly parted. Michaela noticed the delicate strands of blond hair which trailed the edges of his forehead.
How can you leave him, Michaela? It was terrifying enough for him to lose you once. How can you risk forcing him to lose you all over again? Without even preparing him.
She slipped her right arm out from under the quilt to stroke his arm softly.
How can I expose him to such a scandal? Remember how the other children taunted him all those months ago and this would be drastically worse.
Nothing could be worse than forcing that child to lose another mother, Michaela. You know that.
He will not be losing me. Nothing is going to happen to me. Nothing. As William said, this is a relatively safe procedure. Once it is all over we can return home.
And what, Michaela? You think Sully doesn't know why you left? You really think Colleen and Matthew haven't told him by now? You know he wouldn't have approved, Michaela. Life is sacred, regardless. The child should not be blamed. It is an innocent.
She curled back up on her stomach, feeling welcome discomfort at the pressure that the weight of her body exerted upon her abdomen. Shut up! I don't want to hear this, I can't. She screwed her eyes closed and pushed her face violently down into the pillow.
Michaela remained frozen in the uncomfortable position for several moments, as her mind continued to reel with aggressive arguments:
You are just doing this to save what is left of your own reputation, Michaela.
I'm not doing this for me. I'm not.
Yes, you are. Admit it, Michaela, you are terrified of this child.
I'm not, that's not why I'm doing this.
Yes, it is. Admit it. You've as much told yourself, if this was a white baby, then all would be different.
Of course it would be different.
So then you're just being prejudiced, Michaela?
No, I'm not.
Yes, you are. The only reason this child is going to die in less than twelve hours, is because it's Indian. Because it's a reminder.
That's not true. It's a reminder, yes, but it's not like I'm about to forget what has happened. I'll never forget.
But you think you will. You think killing this baby will help you to forget.
Yes, all right! Fine. At least I won't have to look at this child and see him. At least after tomorrow I won't have to feel this child moving inside of me, feeling exactly as if he were violating me all over again, every moment of every day.
See, then, it's just selfish, Michaela.
She'd not felt the tears stream from her eyes, until she drew a desperate breath, and found herself choked by moisture. Quickly pulling her head away from the large pillow, Michaela wiped her cheeks furiously with her hands and tried to regulate her breathing, allowing the disturbing content of her thoughts to slowly fade away.
Rolling back onto her side, the crying had made her sleepy, and, managing to reposition herself so that she was comfortable, Michaela let her eyes drop closed. She could have fallen asleep in that instant, were it not for the continued movement inside of her. Reluctantly, she brought her hand to the side of her stomach, and gently began rubbing the stretched flesh through her nightgown.
She knew it would work, and, as predicted, after several minutes, Michaela felt the sensation slow, and eventually cease altogether.
Finally.
Allowing herself to drift off into much-needed sleep, Michaela pushed all thoughts of her baby from her mind, able to all but forget its existence once the quickening had stopped. As relieved as she was, however, she could never forget that feeling. The feeling of a new creation within her, struggling to grow, to develop, struggling more that it would ever realize, just to stay alive.
~.~
X.O.X
Tuesday, 24th August, 1869
One Day Later – 18 Weeks Gestation
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela looked down at the partially filled checkerboard in front of her.
"Ma, ya shoulda moved there, now I got another one," Brian pointed to the black piece, as he skipped his red one over, and collected yet another of Michaela's pieces.
"You're right, that was silly, wasn't it. My turn again?" She surveyed the large board between them and noticed she was very definitely losing.
"Uh-huh," Brian rolled his eyes, "Ma, ya only got two pieces left. Is it really that hard to choose?" Brian grinned teasingly.
"You just mind your own pieces, Mister," Michaela raised an eyebrow, "Right, what if I," she confidently skipped the disc over two of Brian's pieces. "There. I believe we're even again," she smiled out of the corner of her mouth, as the boy reluctantly placed another black disc on top of the one she'd just moved, to king it.
"You wait, no one beats me unless I let 'em. Not even Matthew," Brian clasped his hands together and leaned closer towards the edge of the board, studying his options.
"Someone's sounding rather sure of himself," Michaela smirked, as Brian claimed another of her pieces. "Aww," she dropped her head, pretending to be mortified.
"See, I'm winnin' again," Brian sat up proudly in his chair, as Michaela glanced up at the clock above the mantelpiece. Still just over an hour before they needed to leave. She turned her attention back to the game and quickly made a move.
"Ya did it again, Ma. See ya made it too easy. I can just jump ya," Brian instructed, and proceeded to claim yet another piece.
"How did that?" Michaela dropped her jaw open, as Brian stacked up the new possession beside his elbow.
"Ya weren't lookin'. Only one to go now," Brian gestured to the board, and Michaela moved the only remaining piece.
"This is gonna be easy. See, I just have to build a little line here and then you ain't got nowhere to go." He moved another of his red pieces into a row.
"Seems rather pointless," Michaela sighed, and nudged the poor, solitary disc to another square.
"Not for me," The young boy flashed a cheeky grin, as he edged towards her black piece.
Michaela reached her right hand across the board, about to slide the disc into the only 'safe' square, when she felt the muscles over her lower abdomen pull slightly. Drawing in a sharp breath, her arm freezing momentarily, she allowed the sensation to pass, and hastily moved the piece.
"Ya all right, Ma?" Brian frowned, and jumped nervously to his feet.
"It's your move." She absent-mindedly began to massage the spot with her left hand, as Brian slowly took his seat.
"Ah, see, told ya, ya had no way to escape. Got ya!" Brian chuckled in a child-like manner, as he triumphantly jumped over the last remaining checker disc.
"Very good, Brian," Michaela smiled, as her breathing once again stabilized.
"Can, may we play again?" He eagerly began placing the pieces into alternate squares, not waiting for an answer.
"All right. One more game," Michaela let her voice trail off thoughtfully, as she studied the glee that spread over the boy's face at the simple idea of a second checkers game. One more game? She reflected on the statement. It had bothered her the first time around. As she observed the child's delicate features, his sparkling blue eyes, his stunning golden hair, his rosebud lips, Michaela felt a fresh wave of anxiety wash over her.
"One more game, until tonight, Brian," she quickly added, managing to snap herself out of the troubling thoughts.
"Aunt Rebecca says you gotta stay in bed, that I can't disturb ya," Brian finished arranging the pieces on the board.
"I should be home just after lunch, so there will be plenty of time later this evening. You can show me some of these tricks, what do you say?" Michaela waited for the boy to begin the game, and quickly did likewise.
"All right, Ma," he smiled and looked up at her, having no awareness of the significance of this time together. Of what it meant to Michaela.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
The physician washed his hands quickly, and turned around to face his patient. "You're feeling comfortable enough, there?" He glanced at her momentarily, as he walked across the room to the end of the examination table. He pulled a small table covered with a white cloth closer towards him.
"Please, I'd prefer to just get this over with," Michaela whispered. She allowed her eyes to drop closed, however found the darkness only frightening. She opened them again, and found her surroundings even more petrifying. She remained perfectly still on the padded examination table, her undergarments removed, her legs in stirrups, and a large white sheet draped over her abdomen and knees.
"Are you sure I can't give you something? This might be quite uncomfortable," he offered, reaching for the bottle of chloroform.
"No." she paused to justify her refusal, "I'm killing my own child, I don't deserve for this to be anything less than torturous." Michaela dropped her hands from her stomach, down by her sides.
"If that is what you wish," he muttered, not agreeing with her decision, but also respecting that it was her choice. He positioned himself at the foot of the high table, and reached for the large, metallic instrument. He hesitated for a moment, noticing Michaela's shallow breathing.
"Try to relax. If you tense up, it will only make it worse," he instructed, noticing her left knee begin to shake very subtly.
"I know, I'm trying," Michaela exhaled noisily, and squinted her eyes closed as she tried desperately to regulate her breathing. After several moments, she thought she'd managed it, when she felt the impossibly cold instrument touch her exposed flesh.
Her jaw clenched so hard she thought her gritted teeth would shatter, and unconsciously let out a small whimper, as she felt the instrument invade her.
"Just breathe. This is the easy part," he spoke softly, trying to reassure her, although concentrating closely on his work.
Michaela felt her chest tighten, and concentrated all her efforts in forcing the air in and out of her lungs, as she felt the large object being pushed further inside her. After a moment, the sensation stopped and she dared to open her eyes, at the exact same moment in which the speculum was clamped open.
"Mmm," she groaned, feeling her lower body tense uncontrollably.
"Why don't you at least let me give you something? There's absolutely no point in withstanding the discomfort." He removed his hands, satisfied that she was amply dilated.
"No, I don't want to make this comfortable," Michaela whispered, her voice hollow.
"Fine. But you really do need to try and calm down, Just close you eyes, and concentrate on keeping your breathing regular." He watched her take in his advice, and shut her eyes once again.
"All right?" He reached for the long, curved metallic knife-like object beside him on the small table.
She nodded quickly, and felt her arms press heavily down across her chest.
Very carefully, he inserted the instrument, and passed it through the small opening of the speculum. "Now, don't move," he kept his voice professional, as he brought his left hand forwards to her stomach, to feel for the exact position of the uterus.
Without realizing it, she flinched at the contact of his fingertips against her bare flesh. "I, I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice high-pitched and choked with tears.
"Everything is fine... I just need to." He managed with significant force to push the curette through the cervical opening.
Michaela felt the pained tears trickle down the outside of her face, as she kept her eyes tightly closed. She could taste blood in her mouth, and, although she had not made one sound in response to the pain, she had bitten once again through the edge of her lower lip.
"There, all right, now, whatever you do, don't move," His voice was slow and grave, void of the compassion and warmth it had contained minutes earlier.
Michaela took in the seriousness of his manner, and braced herself for what she imagined to be diabolical discomfort. She couldn't feel anything. She drew another tentative breath, as her fingers found the edges of the padded table either side of her.
"Almost," the physician began, although was cut off by his patient's sharp protests.
"Ah, ahh!" She could feel the sharp instrument pass through the narrow cervical opening. Michaela felt fresh tears collect and seep from the corners of her eyes, as she gripped the sides of the table, her fingernails breaking through the fine thread of the sheet in response to the blinding pain. "Ughh, Mmm," the inarticulate moans and cries slipped uncontrollably from her lips, as her fingers pushed deeper and deeper into the padding underneath her.
"Just, just breathe. It won't be much longer now," he instructed, as he began the first scrape of the uterine wall.
"Oh, God," Michaela felt completely separated from her mind; as she trailed off into childlike moans, the sound pausing only when she ran out of breath, and had to pant quickly before breaking out into a new tormented wail.
"Almost finished," The physician adjusted his stance, carefully inserting the instrument several inches further.
Michaela endured the indescribable scouring torture for several minutes, before she felt the blood against her thighs.
"Is it?" She tried to lift her head, although it felt heavy and so let it drop back against the pillow. At the same time she allowed her eyes to close, feeling relief that at least the movement of the knife inside her had ceased.
"Damn it," the physician murmured, as he turned and reached for a handful of gauze.
"What?" she murmured, although was surprised at how quiet her voice had sounded.
She felt the warm flow of blood increase, as her fingers began to tingle slightly. She tried to open her eyes, but they suddenly seemed too heavy. It wasn't worth the effort.
"It's all right. Everything is going to be all right. Just stay with me, you're losing a lot of blood. Stay with me," the doctor's voice sounded a long way away, despite the fact that he was only several feet from her, at the end of the table.
He roughly removed the instruments, and cursed again as this only seemed to increase the rate in which the blood was streaming from the woman's body.
Michaela felt a strange dizziness wash over her, as she tried to make sense of what was happening. "Can't you stop it," she pleaded as strongly as she could manage. She felt herself try to work out what had happened, but her thinking was hazy and scattered.
"Am I going to die," she wasn't sure if she'd actually whispered the phrase, or merely thought it; prayed it. Please, please don't let me die. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
She felt the physician push the thick gauze packing firmly against her, although could tell from the internal warmth, and the sensation of fluid against her skin, that the bleeding had not abated.
"No, keep your eyes open. It's all right, it will be all right," the doctor's voice had grown into a strained holler.
Michaela heard the clink of metal as the instruments were thrown hastily into the bowl beside him. Everything around her was fading. She could feel her heart racing, and her hands and feet grow cold and tingly.
I'm scared, I don't want to die. Please someone, someone stop this.
Her mind reeled as her hearing failed her. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do. Father, I'm sorry," Michaela saw her Father appear before her closed eyes. It was at that moment, she knew her fate was grave.
She could feel the blood pooling under her, and noticed that the physician had stopped exerting pressure in an attempt to reduce the flow.
Why has he stopped? God, this is really happening. Why did I do it? It's my fault, I'm being punished.
Brian, what's going to happen to him?
Why? Why did I do this?
She was beyond help.
"I'm sorry," By that stage, Michaela couldn't move, she couldn't even open her eyes. Just as she noticed herself trapped inside her lifeless body, a rising sensation flooded over her. She was floating. She looked down, and her body was still lying motionless on the examination table. She was no longer in it.
He threw his head back sharply; he was too late.
"Michaela! No… No!"