Chapter 3 - The Hospital
The bright lights of the emergency room blinded me as they rolled my stretcher through the doors.
Doctors and nurses swarmed around me, cutting away my ruined clothes with swift precision.
Warm blankets were layered over my freezing body, and an IV needle pierced my dry arm.
“Her core temperature is dangerously low,” a doctor shouted, checking my pulse.
But I only cared about one thing.
“The baby,” I rasped, trying to grab the doctor’s sleeve with my weak, shaking fingers.
“Please, check the baby.”
An ultrasound machine was wheeled into the trauma bay within seconds.
A nurse squeezed warm gel onto my swollen, dirt-stained stomach.
The room fell into a terrifying, heavy silence as the doctor pressed the wand against my skin.
I held my breath, terrified that the days of starvation and freezing mud had taken my child.
Then, a rapid, strong heartbeat echoed through the small hospital room.
“There it is,” the doctor smiled, tears welling in her own eyes.
“Heart rate is strong and steady.”
I closed my eyes, letting the tears stream down my filthy face as the tension broke.
My baby had fought just as hard as I had in that dark, terrible place.
A few hours later, I was moved to a private recovery room on the maternity ward.
A man in a sharp suit knocked gently on the door frame before stepping inside.
“I am Detective Miller,” he said softly, holding up a silver badge.
“I know you have been through hell, but I need to ask you some questions.”
He held up a plastic evidence bag containing my phone.
“The deputies said you recorded them,” the detective stated, pulling up a chair beside my bed.
I nodded slowly, my throat still burning from the days of swallowing nothing but sour dirt.
“Play the files,” I whispered.
May you like
The detective unlocked the phone and pressed play on the most recent audio file.
The sound of my husband’s cruel laughter filled the quiet hospital room.
