The Complication

I wake up to the feeling of something cool pressed against my forehead and for a second I don’t know where I am, I don't remember how I got here.

The ceiling above me isn’t mine.

Neither is the bed.

I try to sit up and a hand gently pushes me back down.

“Easy,” Jeremy’s voice says from somewhere close. “Don’t move too fast.”

My eyes focus and he’s sitting in a chair beside the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and the relief that washes over his face when he sees I’m awake is so obvious it startles me.

“What happened?” My voice comes out rough, scratchy.

“You passed out. Scared the hell out of me.”

There’s someone else in the room—an older woman with graying hair pulled back in a neat bun, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, standing at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed.

“Who—”

“This is Mrs. Kimberly,” Jeremy says. “Sasha’s mom. She lives downstairs. She’s a nurse.”

Mrs. Kimberly steps closer and pulls a chair up on the other side of the bed, reaching for my wrist before I can object.

“How far along are you, sweetheart?” she asks, fingers finding my pulse.

“Twelve weeks.”

She nods, counting silently, her expression giving nothing away.

“Any pain? Cramping? Bleeding?”

“No, nothing like that. I just felt dizzy and then—”

“When did you last eat a proper meal?”

I try to think back and can’t come up with an answer that doesn’t sound pathetic.

“Yesterday evening maybe?”

Mrs. Kimberly’s mouth tightens into a disapproving line and she releases my wrist, sitting back in her chair.

“Your pulse is weak and you’re dehydrated,” she says, looking between me and Jeremy. “And she needs to see her OB as soon as possible. This is delicate.”

It takes a moment to understand what she just said.

“Delicate?” I repeat. “What does that mean?”

Mrs. Kimberly glances at Jeremy, then back at me, and I can see her weighing something.

“What does that mean?” I ask again, pushing myself up to sitting despite the way the room shifts slightly. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

“Your body needs proper nutrition and rest because without it, this pregnancy becomes very difficult to sustain.” She says carefully.

The words knock the air out of me and suddenly I can’t breathe properly again.

“But I—I didn’t know, I’ve been trying to—”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m not blaming you. But you need to understand how serious this is. You need to go back to your doctor. With the baby’s father. There are things they’ll need to discuss with both of you about managing this pregnancy safely.”

I shake my head before she even finishes.

“I can’t. I can’t see him.”

Mrs. Kimberly doesn’t push, just pats my hand gently and stands up.

“Then you find another way. But you need proper prenatal care, and you need it soon.”

She says something quiet to Jeremy on her way out, something I can’t quite hear, and then she’s gone and it’s just the two of us in the sudden silence.

Jeremy hasn’t moved from his chair, hasn’t said anything, and when I finally look at him properly I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands are clasped together so tight his knuckles have gone white.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t mean to—this wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

“Don’t apologize.” His voice is rough. “Just tell me what you need.”

I don’t know how to answer that because what I need is for the last twelve weeks to not have happened, for Ryan to not have disappeared, for my entire life to not be falling apart.

“I need to figure out what to do next,” I say finally. “I need to—I can’t stay here forever, I need to find my own place, get a better job, save money—”

“Cam, you just collapsed in my arms. You’re pregnant and you need to prioritize your health right now. So can we maybe focus on keeping you alive before we worry about everything else?”

He’s right and I hate that he’s right.

“Okay.”

“Good.” He stands up. “I’m going to make you something to eat. And while I’m doing that, I’m going to fix your phone situation.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, looking up at him.

“The tracker. I’m getting rid of it. Permanently. Ryan won’t be able to find you through your phone anymore.”

“How are you going to—”

“I know someone who can wipe it clean. Remove any apps Ryan installed without leaving a trace. But it’ll take a few hours and you need to stay off your phone until it’s done.”

I nod because I don’t know what else to do, and he leaves the room.

I lie back down and press my palm against my stomach, flat and unchanged, no visible sign yet of what’s growing inside me.

Twelve weeks. Almost three months. All this time and I didn’t know, didn’t notice, was too busy being stressed and broke and trying to figure out how to leave Ryan to pay attention to what my own body was telling me.

***

The toast Jeremy made sits heavy in my stomach and I close my eyes, willing myself not to throw it back up, willing myself to keep it down because Mrs. Kimberly said I need to eat, said the baby needs me to eat.

The baby.

I still can’t wrap my head around that concept, can’t picture myself as someone’s mother when I can barely take care of myself right now.

I wonder if Ryan knows about the baby.

He can’t. There’s no way he could know and I trust Reina not to snitch on me but the thought makes my pulse spike anyway because if he knew, if he somehow found out, he’d never let me go. He’d use it to keep me trapped forever.