I scream out loud. “NO!”
“Silence!” my father barks back at me.
The entire room is on edge, including me.
“Is that … Noah and Emmy?” I ask, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“You did this. You did this to yourself,” he hisses.
“Please, don’t do this. He’s your son-in-law,” I plead. “And Emmy’s innocent.”
“Noah made a vow and broke it. Do you know how serious vows are? They are punishable by death!” he growls. “And I don’t care if it’s my son-in-law, a helper, or my own wife. If they don’t follow the rules, they will be punished. That is our system, and those are the rules.”
“But you can bend the rules,” I say.
“If I don’t obey the rules, then who will?” He places his hand against his chin and leans down on his knees. “Do you think this is easy for me? These are my followers. I love my people. But the rules must always be followed. One of them has to die.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “They had nothing to do with this!”
“That is the price of your defiance,” he says. “Now choose … Your husband or your friend.”
My pupils dilate. “What? No, you can’t—I won’t!”
“Then I will decide,” he retorts, and he signals a guard.
“No, wait!” I squeal. “Take them down, please!”
“Pick. Now,” he says through gritted teeth.
My whole body turns cold as ice.
“I can’t. Don’t make me do this, please,” I plead with him, and I go down on my knees. “I’m begging you, please, take me instead.”
He narrows his eyes at me, but it doesn’t seem to move him one bit. After some time, he growls, “No.”
I cry out in pain, burying my face in my hands. I can’t make this decision. I can’t do this. I can’t get it across my heart to even think of it, let alone make the choice.
“Fine,” my father says.
Before I realize it, he’s pointed at someone.
In shock, I turn on my heels.
The floor is dropped underneath the gallows.
The rope tightens.
Everyone’s in shock.
The person is swooped up, and a body dangles in the air.
I can hear the choking. Feel it in my throat as I gasp for air.
“NO!” I scream in terror.
The body hangs limp in the air while the other guards grab the remaining person, rip the rope off, and pull the bag away.
It’s Noah.
So that means … Emmy died.
The grief strikes my body hard like a knife piercing through my belly, and I sink down to the floor in agony. My body contorts, my stomach contracting while I bawl out in pain and fear.
I don’t know what’s going on around me. All the lights are dancing in the air, and I swear I can see Emmy’s ghost floating around … or maybe I’m losing my mind.
Another stabbing pain pushes through my belly, forcing me to stop breathing for a moment, and my eyes burst open from the pain.
And I scream for the only person I know can help me right now, “Noah!”
Within seconds, someone’s face hovers above me, but it isn’t Noah.
It’s Holly. “It’ll be okay. Just breathe,” she says.
“I can’t,” I mutter, tears flowing across my face. “It hurts!”
She grabs my hand and holds on tight. “I’m here.”
“It was Emmy. It’s my fault. It’s my fault she died!” I say, seeing Holly cry too. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t talk. Spare your energy,” she says.
Another sharp pain shoots through my entire body, and I curl up in pain. “Oh God!”
“He’s not punishing you,” she says.
“What?” I mutter, trying not to panic.
She places a hand on my belly and leaves it there for a few seconds before looking up at the president. “She needs a bed. She’s in labor.”
Noah
My entire body feels as though it’s on fire. Sweat drips down my back and my pulse is racing the moment the executioner pulls the bag and rope off my head. I made it out alive …
But Natalie’s friend Emmy didn’t.
And the moment I spot Natalie bundled together on the floor, panic shoots through my veins.
She had to witness her friend’s death, forced to choose, but unable to.
Her father is the cruelest man alive.
But I won’t let him destroy her.
Not on my watch.
I immediately run toward her, ignoring the executioner running right after me. The guards try to stop me from getting close, but I burst right past their defense and storm through the auditorium.
The president’s still on his throne even though his daughter’s in crippling pain and screaming out loud. I don’t know if it’s from the terror of seeing her own friend being hanged … or because of her baby.
Holly’s clutching her hand. “She’s in labor!”
My eyes widen. The fear and trauma must’ve set it off.
As they lift her up from the floor using a makeshift stretcher, I run up to her and grab her other hand. “I’m here.”
“Noah,” she mutters, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh my God, Noah …”
“Don’t talk, I know,” I say. “Save your energy.”
She lowers her head and nods. Right then, another contraction follows, and she squeals in pain. It’s so hard to see her in pain, but I have to stay by her side for as long as I can, for as long as they’ll allow it.
Because I know, sooner rather than later, they’ll force us apart again. But I’ll fight them tooth and nail if I have to.
“You’ll get through this,” I whisper as she’s carried up the stairs.
“It hurts!” she screams, grasping at her belly.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, trying to calm her down.
“No!” she yells, suddenly reaching for my shirt, grasping it tightly into a fist. “It hurts too much! I can’t do this. Don’t make me do this.”
She keeps shaking her head even though she lets me go. Agatha and some guards carry her farther upstairs with Holly and I following suit. They place her on the bed, and she immediately curls up into a ball.
“Where’s my mother? Please, I need her,” she begs.
I nod and quickly run to the other side of the house. Down below, the crowd in the auditorium is clearly talking about what happened, but I pay no attention to them. Instead, I rush straight to Marsha’s room, which is blocked by guards.
“I need to see her,” I say.
“We’re under strict orders from the president not to let her out.”
“Her daughter is in labor,” I bark.
This captures their attention. “Your authority has been revoked.”
I frown. “What?”
“Let him through.”
I turn my head at the sound of my father’s voice. “President’s orders.”
“What?” I mutter.
My father raises his brows and just stands there while the guards step aside. I have no time to decipher this gesture, and I don’t care if he thinks he can make up for all the years of hatred and abuse because he can’t. But I’ll happily make use of the circumstances by bursting into Marsha’s room.
She’s standing right behind the door, and by the looks of it, she was listening to the conversations down below. “She’s in labor, isn’t she?” she asks.
I nod. “She asked for you.”
I attempt to grab her arm, but she leans away. “I’ll go.”
No time to waste. I spin on my heels, and she tails me back into Natalie’s room where she’s wailing in pain. More of the matriarchs have joined and are sitting beside her on the bed and on the floor, praising her, giving her motivation to get through this.
And I’m standing here in the middle of the room, wondering what I’m supposed to do.
I feel lost. Helpless. Unable to do anything to stop the pain from ebbing and flowing into her body again and again, and it hurts to watch.
Natalie screams, and her mother comes up to me and pushes me a little. “Go. She needs to be alone.”
“Why?” I glance at my wife, who’s showing grizzly faces.
“Because she’s in pain, and you can’t help right now,” she says.
“But I want to,” I reply.
“I know,” she says, tilting her head. “But you can’t understand this pain. This is something women have to go through. But we’re here to help her.”
She gently nudges me, and my feet instinctively move. I don’t know why I’m compelled to listen to her. Maybe it’s because she knows more about this than I do. She birthed Natalie, so she knows what’s going to happen while I’m woefully unprepared.
Maybe it is better if I don’t stay even though I want to more than anything …
However, what she needs right now is not what I want or need, and I’m okay with that.
“She needs safety right now, and seeing you will only be a trigger,” Marsha says as she closes the door on me with a tepid smile.
And I’m left standing there, feeling utterly lost, while I clench my fist against the wood and pray my wife and my child will be okay.
Natalie
Hours feel like minutes, but it hurts so much that it feels as though I’m about to pass out every single second. I don’t know how much time has passed since it began. It didn’t feel like this the last time, but I didn’t get this far the last time either.
My last baby was cut out of me before I was prepared, before the baby was ready, but now … the contractions started on their own.
But I fear it’s too soon, too early. I’m not in my last month yet, and the baby is coming. What if it won’t survive?
“This isn’t possible. It’s too soon,” I mutter, at a loss of what to do.
“If it’s time, it’s time,” my mother replies. “Now breathe slowly.”
“No, I’m not, the baby wasn’t supposed to come yet, but Emmy—” I choke on my own words.
I can’t think about her. I don’t want to see her hanging body swinging from left to right.
I can’t. I physically can’t process it.
“Keep that out of your head!” Holly interjects. “Focus on your birth. Anything else will have to come later.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, grasping my belly. “Why does it hurt so much?”
“Those are the contractions, honey,” my mother says, clutching my hand. “Just squeeze.”
My fist tightens around her hand so hard I swear I might break it.
“You can do this,” she says.
“No!” I yell. “I can’t.”
“Is she that close?” Holly mutters, but my mother shushes her.
“Yes, you can do this, Natalie,” she says, sitting down way up close. “Breathe. Breathe in and out slowly.”
“It’s hard,” I mutter, trying to breathe through the pain. “Are there any painkillers?”
Ashley and Meghan shake their heads. “No, those aren’t allowed in this community.”
“Well, fuck me,” I growl. “Just my luck.”
Tricia snorts, but I throw her a look, and she immediately stops.
“You’ll live through this, just like you’ve lived through everything else,” my mother says, trying to make me feel better, but it isn’t helping.
“What if my body can’t do this?” I say, panicking. “It’s happened before. The scar on my belly, I had a kid. He didn’t make it.”
The other women in the room stare at me as if they’ve seen a ghost, but I’m not going to explain it to them. I have other things on my mind right now, like birthing this damn baby, which is set on being born right now.
“That was different, both the circumstances and the baby. But you’ve changed. Your body knows what to do now,” my mother says. “You have to believe in yourself.”
“What if I need another C-section?” I mutter, sweat dripping down my forehead from all the pain and puffing. “What if it won’t fit?”
“It will. Trust your body,” she says.
Another contraction hits and contorts my body into positions I didn’t know I could take, and I suddenly get the incredible urge to get up and walk, so I push up out of bed and go to the shower.
“What is she doing?” Abigail whispers behind me while everyone tags along.
“I don’t know,” Sylvia replies.
“Women are supposed to birth on the bed, right?” Trisha says.
“Let her do her thing,” my mother barks at them. “If this feels better to her, let her do it.”
I’m not really listening. I’m far too focused on the pushing and shoving going on inside me. I can feel my baby move, and it’s making me anxious. Like I have to sit down and poop.
“I feel like … like I need to push,” I murmur.
My mother’s eyes widen. “But … you only just …”
A sudden surge has me leaning against the bathtub, my legs quaking from the pain. When it’s passed, I go down to my knees and peel away whatever’s left covering my butt. I need to get it all off.
My mother sits behind me and gently massages my back while I squeal in agony.
Suddenly water … rushes down my legs.
The contractions pick up speed, and I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything going on around me. All I know is that I need to let out a bellow, and it sounds horrific, but feels so good to do while I spread my legs.
A sizzling, burning pain is at my entrance, and I grasp my belly to hold the scar because for some stupid reason, I fear the baby might try to break me open and burst out through the seams.
“Oh my …!” My mother gasps.
“What?” I ask.
“Look,” she says. “Between your legs.”
My hand instinctively dives down between, and a bittersweet smile spreads on my lips. “I feel a head.” A panicky, neurotic laugh escapes my mouth. “Hair!”
A contraction hits me out of nowhere, and it’s so painful that I close my eyes and roar out loud like a lioness. The burn is excruciating as the baby turns inside me.
“Just a little more!” my mother says. “It’s almost there!”
I feel the baby coming out, the head first, then the shoulders, and pop! It slips out of me, right into my hands. In complete and utter shock, I pull the baby up to my belly and wrap my arms around its body.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” I mutter.
I can’t believe I actually did it. I birthed a baby, and it’s alive.
My mom was right … I could do it.
I could do it all along. I just had to believe in myself.
My mother’s hand sneaks along the side and gently raises the baby’s legs. “Oh! It’s a girl!”
A smile spreads on her face, and I can’t help but cry tears of joy. When her little mouth opens and a tiny cry slips out, my heart flows over with love. So much love … that it makes me forget all the pain and suffering I’ve had to endure to bring her into this world.
Just this little girl … she was worth it all.
