Chapter 4: Life Is a Bitch
Annie's POV
Morning sunlight filtered through the hospital room's blinds, casting thin golden lines across the starched white sheets. The steady drip of the IV marked time like a metronome as I struggled to process Philip's words.
"Pregnant?" The word felt foreign on my tongue. "That's your good news?"
Philip nodded, his perfectly pressed suit at odds with the institutional sterility of the hospital room. He pulled an ultrasound image from his breast pocket. "The gynecologist called yesterday while you were... indisposed. The hospital ran tests when you collapsed. We're going to have another baby, Annie."
I stared at the grainy black and white image, trying to reconcile this unexpected spark of life with the chaos of the past twenty-four hours. My fingers trembled as they traced the tiny form. Another child. Another chance.
Memories of my own childhood flooded back – lonely dinners with mom, the empty chair at school events, the constant ache of absence. The thought of this new baby never knowing a complete family...
"I guess we could move on," I whispered, my hand instinctively moving to my still-flat stomach. "For Brian, and for this baby."
Philip's expression softened into something that might have been genuine remorse. "Maybe... I mean, of course. I promise things will be different." He reached for my hand, and this time I didn't pull away. "I'll change."
The morning light caught something glinting in his other hand – a small jewelry box. "And I got you something," he said, opening it to reveal a pair of delicate lily-shaped earrings. They were beautiful, if surprisingly modest for Philip's usual taste.
"They're perfect," I lied, forcing a smile as he fastened them to my ears. The cool metal felt like shackles.
"I'm glad you like it but I have to go, you know – an emergency board meeting." He kissed my forehead, already reaching for his phone. "Get some rest."
Alone in the hospital room, I let my hand rest on my abdomen, imagining the tiny life growing there. A fresh start. A reason to try again. Right?
---
The cheerful ping of my phone shattered the fragile peace I'd constructed. A WhatsApp message from Brian. My heart leaped, hoping for reconciliation. "Meet me in the emergency stairwell. I want to talk."
I stared at those words, my thumb hovering over the screen. After everything that had happened - the police station, his threat about self-harm and his act before the teacher. The memory of his cold eyes watching me collapse made my hands shake.
But maybe he was manipulated by Sarah. I could still talk sense into him.
And yet... this was my son. My little boy who used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms. Who would beg me to check under his bed for monsters, then insist on checking under mine too, "just to keep you safe, Mommy." When had that sweet child become this stranger?
Hope and dread warred in my chest as I disconnected the IV and made my way into the corridor. The hospital's antiseptic smell burned my nostrils.
Turning left down the corridor, I caught sight of an imposing figure standing ramrod straight before a bench. A man with strong build cut an impressive figure, a father I would say but a young one. Following his gaze, I glanced at the small blonde girl sitting on the bench, her head bowed, eyes fixed on the floor.
As I hurried past them, I caught the pleasant blend of tobacco and cologne. The scent cleared my head momentarily, I could die sniffing it, but I had no time to dwell on it as I made my way toward the stairwell.
"Lucy, life is a bitch, but you need to learn to love yourself," The man's gentle voice carried through the corridor. He quickly added, "Pardon my language. But you know what I mean, don't you?"
I couldn't help but turn back. His voice was so magnetic and absorbing. I wondered what kind of handsome face could match that manly voice. As I beheld his side of face, I found a vision of rugged handsomeness, his features perfectly chiseled. I followed his gaze and saw Lucy's small face a mask of isolation that startled me. Why?
If I'd had a father to comfort me like that, I would have given him my brightest smile.
But who knows? Life is a bitch indeed. Maybe I could find time to love myself as well after my conversation with Brian.
Squaring my shoulders, I reached for the stairwell door. Brian might be confused, manipulated, even angry, but he was still my son. And sometimes loving yourself meant having the courage to face the hard conversations, no matter how much they might hurt.
Pushing open the door to the stairwell, I stepped forward and saw Brian standing ominously on the steps.
---
The emergency stairwell was bathed in harsh white light, the smell of disinfectant even stronger here and it was mixed with something I couldn't tell. Brian stood halfway up the first flight, his expression unreadable.
"Mom," he said, the word falling like a stone. "Sarah told me to tell you something."
My heart clenched as I forced a smile. "Yes? Sweetie?"
"She said to tell you that you're not wanted anymore. That you should just go away and let her be my real mom." His voice was eerily calm and mechanical as if he were reciting an article from his textbook. "She said you're too weak to fight for us anyway."
I took a step forward, my shoe sliding unexpectedly on the stairs. Looking down, I saw an oily sheen coating the white tiles.
"Brian, wait—"
But he was already turning away, his small shoulders squared with purpose. My foot slipped again, and this time there was nothing to grab onto. The world tilted sickeningly.
My last conscious thought was of the baby – No, don't. Don't leave me, please. This innocent life, my final thread of hope in a tapestry of betrayal, slipping away on these cold tiles. Was this what I deserved for trying so hard to be a good mother?
As I fell to the ground, I let out a piercing scream and clutched my stomach in agony. I saw a pool of blood spreading on the floor.
The fluorescent lights blurred above me, their harsh glare a fitting witness to my failure. As darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, I thought of the man in the hallway's words to his niece: "Life is a bitch." How right he was!
The world faded to black, leaving me alone with the echo of my son's footsteps walking away from his mother. I'd start to love myself if I could.