Ella
My breath starts to come short and fast now as I press my hand desperately to my stomach, seeking that connection somewhere within me. But I feel like I’m grasping through empty air, my fingers searching for any touch, any tie, and coming up empty.
“Ella,” Sinclair murmurs, tightening his hands against my back. “Calm down – the doctors say that it’s okay, that he’s still with us –“
“Still with us,” I growl, my teeth clenched as I try to manifest that damn connection, to make it appear even when it stubbornly refuses to present itself. “How can he still be with us if I can’t feel him?”
Sinclair shushes me softly again, a soft rushing sound that – despite my desperation – makes me open my eyes and look at him. My fear comes rushing in then, wiping out my anger and frustration. “Do
