Chapter8
1062 Words
NICOLE’S POV
I bit my lips as the first surge hit me.
It felt like a lightening bolt rippling through my v****a. I tried to take steadying breathes like I was taught at birthing class, but the unimaginable pain made me forget the breathing technique.
I sped past the red light, driving like my life depended on it. By the time the second wave of contraction hit me, I broke into tears, not just about the pain in my belly but also the emptiness that echoed in my chest.
I have never felt so alone in my entire life than I have these past nine months. Handling my job, morning sickness, mood swings, pregnancy and housing three babies in my belly.
I was completely and utterly alone. Most nights, I would stay awake crying my eyes out and wondering if I made the right choice keeping these babies.
After the doctor told me I was pregnant, my first thought was I could not do this, not at this point in my life. I had no mate or partner to help me.
I was tempted to reach out to Nathan, especially after I had finished the money, but I decided not to try it. He was probably married by now to his mate and would probably force me to give him my babies and there would be nothing I could do about it.
My babies are my whole life, and soon I’ll hold them in my arms and nothing else in this world will matter.
I hobbled into the hospital screaming for help on top of my lungs. Soon a nurse with a wheelchair appeared. I plopped down on the chair, and she took me straight to my room.
I counted down the minutes, which slowly turned to hours. First my son arrived, his cries filling the room. The first nurse took him away. He was shortly followed by his sisters.
The whole world finally made sense when I held my three fragile humans in my arms. “Danny, Mia and Amy,” I muttered under my breath.
I wasn’t alone anymore.
4 YEARS LATER
I clutched my bag tightly as I watched my kids eating their breakfast noisily. My head swelled, and I felt such overwhelming joy and annoyance at the same time. Why couldn’t they eat their breakfast quietly?
“Amy, leave your sister alone,” I yelled. I glanced at my wristwatch and cursed silently, I was late for work again.
The front door fell open and my sister, Mary, came in. “Sorry I’m late,” she said as she hurried into the dining room.
“It's fine,” I said, then proceeded to place kisses on my kid's forehead. I turned to Mary, “I already made them lunch. It’s in the fridge. And remember not more than one hour of screen time.”
She nodded and I left.
I always feel this overwhelming guilt every time I leave my kids for work, and for the rest of the day all I do is miss them desperately.
Thankfully, when I got to work my boss wasn’t in. This was the fifth time I was late this month and I cannot endure any lecture this morning on the benefits of being early. I tied my apron around my waist and got to work.
During my short break later that afternoon, I face timed Mary just to check in on my kids.
“I miss you mommy and so does Mr. Pompom,” Amy’s tiny voice squeaked over the phone. Mr pompom was her favorite teddy, and she took him everywhere.
“I will be home soon.” And by soon, I meant in the next five hours.
When the day was finally over, I went to Mr. Joe and collected my pay check before heading home. I stopped by our favorite pizza place and grabbed a box of pizza.
By the time I got to the house, I breathed a sigh of relief. But as I saw that the front door was half open, panic crawled up my throat.
“Mary,” I called as I entered my house. But I was met by silence. My kids are never this quiet except when they are asleep, and it is too early for them to be in bed.
My heart beat raced as I made my way quickly to my kids' bedroom. A yelp escaped my lips when I saw Mary on the ground covered in a pool of her own blood.
Oh, no please. God no.
I prayed silently.
“Danny! Mia! Amy!” I called as tears rushed down my face. This could not possibly happen to me.
Who would want to take my kids? I have no enemies here? And no one knew me here, so who could have taken my babies and why?
I immediately dialed the police number and someone answered at the third ring.
“Someone kidnapped my babies,” I cried even before the woman could say something.
“Please calm down ma'am,” the female voice said.
“How can I calm down? I just told you my three kids were kidnapped, and the kid's sister killed!”
“What’s your address?”
I told them the address and dropped the call. I went to my kids' room. Their toys were still scattered on the floor. I fell on my knees and wept into my palms.
I failed as a mother. I could not even protect my kids. God knows how scared they must be wherever it is they are. They haven’t even had dinner and Mia gives a fit whenever she gets very hungry.
My eyes fell on the note pressed against the wall. I hadn’t noticed it before. The note was written in blood, Mary’s blood I guess. I picked up the note.
You have 48 hours to bring fifty thousand dollars.
Or we kill your children.
We know their father can afford it.
The note fell out of my trembling fingers. Who could possibly know about my kids and who the identity of their father was? I didn’t tell anyone, not even Nathan. I made sure I avoided my past and everyone in it, but it still managed to catch up with me.
Now there was only one thing I could do. Go back to where it all began.
- Writer
