Your legs quivered, knees knocking together under the force of another harsh contraction. Daryl’s hand wasn’t enough to brace you, not against the pressure clawing up your spine. It felt like something was trying to crawl out of your bones, dragging itself from the deepest part of you.
Your eyes crinkled with the strain. Your nails dug into the meat of Daryl’s hand. He grunted, easing his grip so your palm could slip against his, but he didn’t pull away.
He didn’t complain. He had no right.
Watching you writhe, watching your hips shift against the springy mattress like you were trying to shake the pain loose, he looked like he’d take it from you if he could. But he couldn’t. He did this to you. And all he could do was watch.
“Breathe,” he whispered, maybe hoping the word alone could keep you tethered.
“I… am… breathing,” you gritted, another contraction dragging your hips forward. The heat pooled low in your belly and spilled between your legs in hot bursts.
“Right.” His voice stayed soft. No argument. No frustration. Just presence. And somehow that made everything hurt worse, knowing how you unraveled while he wasn’t there.
Your breath stuttered, fogging the cold air as the next pulse of pain rolled through you. You hated that he stayed so steady. So grounded. You wanted to fold him into the ache, make him feel a fraction of what ripped you apart.
Your head tipped back, chasing a breath you could barely find. Daryl shifted closer, his thigh touching yours, anchoring you to a bed that felt too soft to hold you through this. You could feel the tremor in his arm under your fingers. He wasn’t nearly as calm as he pretended.
“Hey,” he murmured, voice close to your ear, “look at me.”
You tried. Through the blur of tears and exhaustion, you tried. His face came into focus, wrecked and helpless, hurting not because you were here… but because he couldn’t take any of it from you.
His thumb brushed the corner of your eye, catching a tear before it could fall. The gentleness of it nearly broke you. You wanted to scream, to shove him away, to pull him closer, all at once. The next contraction tore through you before the emotion could settle. Your breath hitched and you folded over your belly, gripping his arm so tight he hissed through his teeth.
"I don't wanna do this anymore," you hiccuped, leaning back against the pillow, chest rising with shallow breaths, your hand going limp in his.
"No, no, no." Daryl’s panic stayed small, tucked in the corners of his voice, even as his warm hands wrapped around your limp wrist. He gathered your fingers gently, cupping them like he was trying to keep something precious from slipping through.
"Hey," he whispered, breath shaky, eyes locked on yours like he could anchor you back into your own body if he just held on tight enough. "You still with me?"
You weren’t sure. The next wave of pain pulsed low and deep, curling through your hips and spine. It stole the air from your lungs before you could answer. Your jaw clenched. Your toes curled. Your vision speckled at the edges.
Daryl leaned forward, forehead almost touching yours. His breath brushed your lips, warm in a room that felt cold everywhere else. "Look at me. C’mon. I need you here."
"I can't," your voice broke under a whisper at the fact.
You couldn't do this. Not for him, not for yourself.
Daryl shook his head, leaning in until his forehead pressed to yours, his breath trembling against your lips. “Yes you can,” he whispered, like saying it soft would make it true, “and I’m right here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Your eyes fluttered open, lashes tacky from tears, your whole face pulled tight with strain. There was nothing left in you but pain. Not the anger you carried for the man at your side, not the shaken love for the life you were fighting to bring into the world.
Just the raw stretch of your nerves and the twisting pressure racing up your spine, pulling you between refusal and surrender.
The room wavered in your vision, shapes blurring at the edges, colors bleeding together. Nothing looked right. Nothing felt right.
For a moment the haze shifted, and what you saw felt more like a memory than a hallucination. Something quiet. Something calm. Everything you thought you would be when this moment came, instead of the unraveling, frantic shadow curled on a bed, fighting through the storm she once vowed to weather without breaking.
You weren’t sure how to explain it, but something in the room changed.
The air eased around you, just a little, like someone had lifted one brick off the pile crushing your chest. You could finally drag in a breath that didn’t scrape.
“Hey, you,” a soft voice murmured, warm and steady. Another pair of hands found you, light and sure in a way that made your body lean toward them without thinking.
“It’s Maggie,” Daryl said quietly, watching her settle at the foot of the bed.
“She’s gonna get you through this,” he promised, voice low, almost pleading for you to believe him.
“Just get this thing out of me,” you cried, collapsing deeper into the mattress as another wave pulled you under.
Maggie moved with a calm that felt unreal in the chaos of your body tearing itself apart. Her hands slid to your knees, guiding them apart, grounding you even as everything inside you felt like it was splitting open.
“Alright, sweetheart,” she murmured, voice low and steady. “You are close. I need you to listen to me now.”
You tried. You really did. But another contraction slammed through you like a hot iron dragged across every nerve ending. The sound that tore from your throat was not a word, not a plea, just raw pain that ripped the air apart. Your fingers curled in the sheets. Daryl flinched beside you at the sound, but he stayed where he was, holding what little of your hand you could offer in your spiraling state.
Maggie glanced between your legs, her expression shifting for the briefest second. Focused. Sharp. Not panicked, but alert. “Baby’s head is right there, but I need you to stop pushing for one moment,” she said.
You screamed instead. You could not stop it. Your body pushed without permission, every muscle firing even as you tried to obey. Maggie’s hand pressed firmly against your thigh, steadying you.
“Easy. Easy. You are okay,” she said. “Cord’s a little tight, but I got it. Do not panic.”
Daryl tensed. “What does that mean? Maggie, what does that mean?”
“It means I need her to breathe for a second,” Maggie answered, never looking away from you. Her voice stayed calm, collected, like nothing could rattle her. “Give me one breath, honey. Just one.”
You dragged in air that felt too sharp. Your chest heaved. Your vision swam. The edges folded in and out like a flickering candle. You could not speak. You could not form anything but the pain swallowing your throat.
Maggie’s fingers moved with impossible confidence. “There. That is it. Baby is fine. You are fine. Let your body work.”
The fear tightened your ribs. You sobbed, shaking your head, another cry ripping from you, high and panicked.
“I know,” Maggie whispered, brushing your leg, voice gentler now. “I know it hurts. You are safe. Daryl is right here. I am right here. We got you.”
Another contraction crashed over you with no warning. Your back arched. Your jaw locked. You screamed until your voice cracked and broke apart. Daryl pressed his forehead to your temple, breathing with you despite the panic shimmering in his tight grip.
“You are doing it,” he whispered. “You are doin’ it. Come on. Come on.”
You were shaking so hard your teeth chattered. Everything blurred. The world narrowed to the pressure, the heat, the tearing sensation that stole your breath and replaced it with fire.
Maggie shifted, bracing her hands. “Alright. Next one. You push. All of it. This is the one.”
You screamed again, a sound you did not recognize, animal and desperate. Your fingers slipped from Daryl’s hand because you could not hold anything anymore. Maggie reached up and braced your knee again.
“There you go. Good girl. Right there. Again.”
The room spun. Your ears rang. You were drowning in the pain, in the fear, in the pressure that felt like it would rip your spine open. You cried out, broken and breathless, and pushed with everything you had left, which was barely anything at all.
“One more,” Maggie said, eyes bright with something like pride. “Right now.”
Your entire body clenched. You screamed until your lungs emptied. And then suddenly the pressure released. Maggie’s hands moved fast, sure. The room filled with a different sound. High. Thin. Alive.
Daryl’s breath hitched like he had been punched. His hand flew to his mouth. “Oh God,” he rasped, voice cracking open.
You could not speak. You could not breathe. Relief hit you too fast, followed by a wave of dizziness that swarmed your skull like smoke. You blinked hard, vision stuttering in and out.
Maggie worked quickly, wiping the baby, checking breath sounds, moving with the same steady confidence. “You did it. She is perfect,” she said, voice warm and full of something soft. “Let me get her on your chest.”
“I…” You tried to answer, but only a whisper came out. Your arms felt heavy, too heavy. You reached, but your fingers trembled and dropped.
Daryl’s head snapped toward you. “Hey. Hey. Look at me. You alright?”
You were not. Not really. Your body slumped back, muscles too weak to hold you upright now that the storm had passed. The room tilted. Maggie moved again, checking you, her voice suddenly more urgent even though her tone stayed controlled.
“You lost a little too much blood. Stay with us.”
You tried to keep your eyes open, but everything soothed and muffled around the edges. You felt the brush of something warm being placed against your chest. A small weight. A breath. A cry.
But your eyelids were too heavy. Your breathing too shallow. The sounds of Maggie’s voice and Daryl’s panicked muttering blended into a distant hum.
You fought to stay awake.
Then the darkness folded over you, soft and final, as your body gave out completely.
