“This timetable isn’t negotiable,” I said aloud. “Please don’t let my baby come too early.”
Sleep came and went in waves. Each time, waking was precipitated by either pain or a combination of nausea with an excruciating pressure to use the bathroom.
It had been over a week since Andros had visited my room, and I hadn’t seen him since. Irina mentioned that he was out of town and even Tadeas let that information slip. Usually my tutor was tight-lipped when it came to Andros or the workings around us. He usually stayed on task, talking only about my studies. Of course, I didn’t tell either of them what had occurred the night Andros came to my suite.
What could I say? The man who purchased me came to collect.
The night Andros entered, I’d mistakenly assumed I was prepared for whatever he had planned. While it wasn’t the most horrific night of my life—I had too many to choose from—it wasn’t what I’d expected. I’d thought it would be the two of us, building up his positives in my head before his arrival. I never imagined he wouldn’t be the one to have sex with me. The man who bought me was apparently both manipulative and a voyeur.
Before Andros arrived, I’d heard him in the garden with another man. Since we weren’t formally introduced, I still didn’t know the other man’s name, but I assumed that the second man to arrive was the one from the garden. I didn’t recognize him and couldn’t understand most of what he said.
Instead of introduced, I was reminded.
“Is there anything you won’t do to stay with your child?”
Andros’s question brought back my pledge before the evening began.
My answer remained steadfast, and to that end, so did my compliance.
The realization that there was no bottom to the pit of my depravity had eaten away at me over the last week. While at the same time, I reminded myself that it was nearly a week ago and it hadn’t happened again. This wasn’t Miss Warner’s cell. There weren’t men upstairs selecting me from a menu of available pussy. This was Andros’s doing, and I had verbally agreed to be at his mercy—no matter what that meant.
“Oh…” I cried out as the pain increased.
It was still the early morning, the sky outside black with the summer night. Irina wouldn’t be at my suite for another two hours. With the increased pain, perspiration formed upon my flesh, adhering my nightshirt to my skin.
Pulling myself from the bed, I forced my steps, crouching and standing, standing and crouching, until I reached the bathroom. To my horror, as I lowered my underwear, the crotch was bright red, saturated with blood. I hadn’t bled at the cell or even after the man with Andros.
As I sat upon the toilet, the pressure built.
Tears came to my eyes as pain radiated from my groin. I wasn’t certain how long I stayed seated, but finally, I fell to my knees upon the tile floor.
What would happen if my baby was born?
This was the end of July and according to Dr. Kotov, my little one wasn’t supposed to arrive until late August.
“No,” I called out, summoning my child to listen.
The cool tile below me was a welcome contrast to my heated skin. With my knees drawn up as high as possible and me on my side, I closed my eyes and exhaled, allowing the pain to lessen. When I awoke, a pool of watery blood surrounded me.
It was too much to be spotting.
Was this what it meant to have your water break?
I didn’t know.
There were too many questions that I was unprepared to answer.
Since I’d arrived at Andros’s, I’d asked Irina for books about childbirth and child-rearing. She’d brought me all my requests without question. For the last six weeks, I’d done everything I could to provide for my child. I’d eaten the right foods and consumed the recommended quantity of water. I’d exercised in the sunshine, walking around the courtyard.
Dr. Kotov never mentioned sex, and I was afraid to ask. Yet the books did. Each one said it was safe up until labor.
I moved to my hands and knees, again crying out as the pain returned.
My mind knew what my body had difficulty processing. I needed help. I needed to contact Irina.
Like many of Andros’s employees, she lived within the complex. I’d never seen her room, but I knew she was near.
I didn’t know how close Andros was, or if he were even in the city. After our last meeting, he wasn’t who I sought. When the pain subsided, I crawled across the tile into the bedroom.
Upon my arrival, I’d been given a phone with limited calling ability.
My eyes closed as the pain returned. Dropping my head to the carpet, I braced myself for another contraction. The pain built, never fully having subsided, growing each time in intensity. Similar to a roller-coaster ride and a cart going up and down, the pain ebbed and flowed. Up and up, such as the ticks of the coaster over the tracks, the difference was in the descent. It wasn’t as abrupt. There was no throwing my hands into the air or free falling. It was simply a moment before the pain moved back up, each peak erupting higher than the last.
The pressure was unreal, unlike anything I even imagined.
Eventually, I made it to the bedside stand. Peering back, I felt a twinge of shame that I’d left a crimson trail upon the carpet. Reaching for the phone, I flipped it open and pushed the directory. Irina Molchalin was the second name.
She answered on the second ring. “Madeline?” she sounded sleepy.
“I-I need…” My words disappeared as I cried out again and dropped the phone to the carpet.
The call had been the right one.
Though I was in no position to judge time, in what seemed like minutes, my suite filled with people. Some I knew, such as Irina and the doctor. Others I didn’t.
With the tension high, the conversation around me was for the most part beyond my comprehension. In a language I’d learned was Russian, the doctor and Irina shouted orders and people obeyed. Clean bedding was brought in, monitors attached to my stomach with audible noises sounding like tapping, and an IV was inserted in my arm, allowing medicines to be administered. Every now and then, Irina would wipe my forehead with a cool cloth and speak soothing words in English.
Within the room, my attendants paced.
Beyond the windows, the sun rose and the sky grew bright.
The only offered relief for the desert dryness within my mouth and upon my lips came from slivers of ice chips.
“You must rest. The baby isn’t ready,” Irina soothed, as another woman injected something else into the IV.
“Andros?” I managed to ask during one fit of lucidity.
“Is on his way, sweet girl,” Irina said. “He wasn’t expecting this so soon. None of us were.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated to Irina and my child.
I was sorry.
I was sorry I hadn’t taken better care of my baby.
I was sorry I’d gone with Kristine.
I was sorry I was surrounded by strangers I barely understood.
I was sorry that this was the world I was bringing my child into.
Whatever the woman injected into the IV worked. Warming me from the inside, the medication calmed and lulled me to sleep. When I woke, Andros was sitting in a chair beside the bed. His dark eyes stared at me with the venom of a snake. Silently, his gaze scrutinized and judged.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.