Chapter 2 - THE AMBULANCE
The paramedics were inside the house in less than two minutes.
Everything became noise.
Questions.
Gloves.
Equipment.
Daniel shouting my medical history.
Margaret telling everyone it had been "an accident."
"It wasn't an accident," I gasped.
One paramedic, a woman named Rachel, leaned close.
"I heard you. Don't worry about explaining right now."
She pressed a monitor against my stomach.
For several terrifying seconds, there was nothing.
Daniel gripped my hand.
Then—
A heartbeat.
Fast.
Weak.
But there.
I burst into tears.
Daniel lowered his head against mine.
"He's alive."
Rachel's expression stayed serious.
"We need to move."
They lifted me onto the stretcher.
As they rolled me through the hallway, two police officers entered through the front door.
Margaret immediately approached them.
"This is a misunderstanding."
Daniel snapped around.
"No, it's not."
"Daniel."
"You kicked her."
"She was disrespecting me in my own house!"
One officer, a broad-shouldered man named Harris, held up a hand.
"Ma'am, step back."
Margaret stared at him like no one had ever spoken to her that way.
"This is my home."
"And right now it's a potential crime scene."
Her face changed.
Robert looked sick.
Daniel started toward the ambulance.
Officer Harris stopped him.
"Sir, did you witness what happened?"
"Yes."
"Directly?"
Daniel nodded.
"My mother walked toward Emily and kicked her in the side."
Margaret shouted from behind him.
"That's not what happened!"
Daniel turned.
"It is exactly what happened."
"Daniel, think about what you're doing."
"I am."
She lowered her voice.
"I'm your mother."
He looked at her for several long seconds.
Then he said, "And she's my wife."
The ambulance doors closed.
Daniel climbed inside.
As we pulled away, I saw Margaret standing on the front steps between two officers.
Her face wasn't scared.
It was angry.
At me.
At Daniel.
At everyone except herself.
I closed my eyes.
The pain worsened during the drive.
Then Rachel looked at the monitor.
Her expression tightened.
"What?" Daniel asked.
She didn't answer immediately.
"What is it?"
"We're seeing contractions."
My heart stopped.
"I'm only thirty-two weeks."
"I know."
"Is he coming?"
"We don't know yet."
Another contraction tore through me.
I screamed.
Daniel held my shoulders.
Then Rachel said something into her radio that I still remember word for word.
"Notify labor and delivery. Possible placental abruption after blunt-force trauma."
Daniel looked at me.
I knew enough to understand the danger.
May you like
And suddenly the question wasn't whether Margaret would be arrested.
It was whether our son would survive the night.
