Danica
DanicaI’m in the clinic alone, wondering if I can take the supplies I need and go somewhere in private, and the squeezing feeling comes again. This time I know it’s a contraction. My entire belly clenches, and the pain—like nothing I’ve known before—screams through my nerve endings like liquid fire.
I whimper and sink to the floor, clutching my stomach. My knee twists as I sink down, heavy, and my joints pop and groan, but that’s nothing. All I can feel is the knives stabbing me from the inside.
“Guh!” My vision is all dots and static and I vomit, a thin stream of watery liquid that’s warm on my chin and breasts.
“Danica? Mother Earth.” It’s Bayla’s voice. I can’t see her, because everything swims in front of me, bursts of red and black and yellow. “What are you doing here?”
“I
