Love LockDown (39 page)
“Come on angel, let’s sleep. I’m shattered. Ant is doing well, so now I can sleep knowing that news.” He clasps my hand in his and leads me to our room, the large bed inviting my still slightly painful head to the pillows atop of it.
“God my head hurts today.” I say, trying to play the pain off as a normal, everyday headache.
“Come on Baby, in you get,” he says as he pulls the duvet back. I scrambled in before he demands I remove my clothes.
I bring the cover to my chin and snuggle myself within it. I instantly relax when I feel the warmth of Leighton behind me, spooning my swollen belly in his strong arms. The scent of him is diminishing every bad memory of the previous hours today.
His hands move around to stroke my belly as normal; every soft rub of his hand is grazing close to where the bandage dressing is covering the slice in my skin. I keep closing my eyes and holding my breath when his fingertips catch the edge of it, hoping he doesn’t feel. He makes no such suggestion he has, so I leave it.
Closing my eyes I soften into him, my fatigue of carrying this clear ten pound mass of little person within me really is getting to me now. My stomach won’t stop growing, even only mere weeks away from delivery.
It is the twenty-second of December now, three days until Christmas and exactly three weeks until the little mite is here.
“Three weeks today, baby. I can’t wait to be a daddy.” God why did he have to be so God damn perfect, even counting day by day how long it would be until our family was perfect. But as I close my eyes the thoughts of earlier seep through I can’t help but think that we’ll never be perfect, not now. If he was to find out what happened I would have ruined every chance I ever had at eternal happiness. “I can’t wait to have its tiny hand wrapped around my finger, to kiss its soft hair, to smell that wonderful new born baby scent and to hold it close to my chest while I fall asleep with her or him in my arms. Their tiny snores soothing any pain or anger built up from the day. To look at it and see eyes and skin reminding me of my beautiful wife to be. To watch as their tiny mouth feeds from you, as his or hers eyes look at you like you’re the best thing in the world.” I try my hardest to hold back the tears, I really do, Leighton doesn’t deserve me, and I don’t deserve someone as amazing as him. I would bring him the upmost pain, I wish in some ways he had left me there, on that cold street, or had just let that man kill me, to slice my throat and have done with me, because the pain I am now feeling deep within me is far worse than anything I had ever dealt with before. This is soul tearing, heart crushing agony.
After he places his customary kiss to my forehead and turns around to sleep I let the tears fall. His gentle snores reassuring me he is asleep, that it is now okay to let the shame and guilt flood the mattress.
Every time my child kicks inside my womb, every time I have to wake up to go to the toilet because of the pressure its head is putting on my bladder I am reminded. I hate myself with a new raw disgust, David would turn his face from me, Lisa and Carl would probably turn their backs on me as well, not allowing me to see my new little foster sister Lily, and Leighton, oh God what have I done.
I sit on the tiled floor of our bathroom and cry fiercely, tears of shame for the whore I am, the stupid little slut who fucks her fiancé’s number one enemy, for fucking the bastard that nearly killed my best friend and brother.
I finally crawl back into my bed at gone two in the morning and close my eyes, feeling numb and tearless.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I am numb, all day every day. My first Christmas with Leighton has come and gone. Antonio is out of hospital and being cared for by Debbie and Maria non-stop. I am sure the mollycoddling is probably driving him completely crazy right now.
Leighton, as usual has continued to but me the most amazing gifts, perfect little presents that melt my heart every time. He has been the most attentive man in the world, giving me his usual foot and back rubs every day to ease the muscle and joint pain from the probably now twenty pound baby nestled in my womb.
I have begun to get Braxton hicks, they are fucking agonising. The worst pain I have ever felt. I am assured they are normal, but nothing compared to the real pain of child birth. That idea only makes me shit myself that much more.
It is now two weeks until my due date, and up to this point, even during sex, I have managed to conceal the wound on my stomach. I still have to dress it to stop it seeping onto my clothes. It still causes me pain under the heat of the shower or in the bath. It has gradually begun to heal, but the top layers are still delicate and keep tearing and reopening, I should have had it stitched but I don’t want anyone to know about it, to know the disgusting secrets I hide inside of my heart.
I am lying in the bath on Sunday evening, relaxing my body and reading a book on my e-reader. Some crap lovey dovey, hearts and roses book. It makes me want to throw up. No one has such a perfect life, the world isn’t that kind. I had it once but things aren’t going to be like that anymore. There is always something or someone to upset the balance of things.
I have a soothing rock ballad playing in the background, Bon Jovi’s voice is filtering through singing one of my all-time favorites ‘always’. Someone would think I am an emotional masochist to keep putting myself through all this psychological bullshit at the worst time of my life. Words of a song or a line in a novel reminds me once again that I have to get out of this funk, Leighton doesn’t know, he will never know. I have come to the decision that I wasn’t going to tell him, it hasn’t made a difference what I have done; Phillip and his group of bastards are still going to continue, so there is no point making the situation worse by telling him.
I place my e-reader on the counter beside the bath and slip under the warm water to wet my hair, preparing to wash it, the water covering everywhere but my nose, mouth and mammoth bump that is currently bobbing in the water. The liquid freshness does wonders to my skin, opening my pours and waking me.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABIGAIL!?” I hear the shout from under the water, causing me jump up and open my eyes. Leighton’s hands are fisted at his side as he stands beside the tub, the water sloshing ever the bath edge onto the tiled floor.
“What’s what?” I try to remain calm knowing exactly what he is talking about. My stomach is clearly visible from beneath the water. The four inch laceration across the right side of my stomach is in eye shot.
I place my hand over the wound trying to hide it. Leighton’s hand reaches out and grabs my own, yanking it aside. “What is
that
?” I can see the anger behind his eyes and words, he is trying to keep cool but I know he wants to punch something.
“I, I, I…” I try to make up a story in my head as quick as possible.
“You what Abigail, YOU FUCKING WHAT! TELL ME. COZ I’D LOVE TO FUCKING KNOW WHY MY FIANCÉE HAS A FUCKING SLICE ACROSS HER STOMACH. THE STOMACH THAT HAS MY FUCKING CHILD IN.” he shouts at me, the deep growl behind it scaring the living shit out of me.
“I, erm, slipped, whilst cutting veg, the knife cut me, it’s no big deal.” Fuck this is going bad very quickly. I have no way of hiding this; I just hope he believes my lie.
Leighton’s arms dip into the bath bringing one beneath my legs, under my knees. The other supports my back as he easily lifts me from the water and walks me across the room. The water was pouring from me onto the marble. I am just praying Leighton doesn’t slip at this point in time.
He places me on the bed gently, and then clasps my jaw in his hand. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to make me look at him.
My chest is tightening and I am finding it hard to breath. I have a real bad feeling that shit is going to hit the fan right in a second, I hadn’t predicted it or believed it would happen so soon, if at all. My body is shaking uncontrollably, my breathing labored and shallow, my stomach is causing me agony as another Braxton hick hit full force.
“Fuck, argh, Shit, that hurts.” I clasp my stomach, bending at the waist to try and relieve some of the discomfort.
“Don’t do that Abigail, Don’t fucking deflect. Now tell me the fucking truth.” He isn’t listening to my cries, he thinks I am avoiding answering him. I wish I could reassure him I was in pain, that I wasn’t avoiding him, but in some ways I am thankful for the false contraction at this point, anything to get out of Leighton’s wrath zone.
“Leighton, please, it hurts so fucking bad.” As I go to stand a gush of water falls from between my legs and smothers the floor. “Oh God, I think I wet myself.” How bloody embarrassing, of all times for the baby to kick my bladder, it has to be when Leighton will see. I feel my cheeks flush pink as he stares at the puddle on the floor, a cloudy white tinge to the fluid. That isn’t normal I know for sure.
“Abbi, I don’t think that’s wee baby, I think that is your waters breaking.” His demeanor changes instantly, the smile on his face replacing the anger and outrage. He is so ready for this, he has been on a continuous buzz the last two weeks preparing for our little baby to join the world.
“No, it can’t be, it’s too early.” God, the pain is unbearable.
I scream out as my first proper contraction hit me, the white hot burning pain soars through my womb to my cervix.
“You’ll be fine angel. Let me get you dressed so we can get to the hospital.” He starts fussing around finding a cotton nightdress for me to wear, it is nighttime after all.
“Leighton, Lisa isn’t here, aww fuck, ouch, pain, fuck, pain.” I breath through the pain, Leighton rubs my back in big circles to try and reduce the agonising stretch within me.
“Breath, in, out, in, out.” he mimics the breaths for me to copy, the same as we had learnt in our classes.
I follow his lead, controlling my intake and outtake of oxygen and carbon dioxide. After a minute or two the pain dissipates to a dull ache.
“Good, well done angel. Now let’s get you dressed and I’ll give Lisa a call. They only live an hour away, you still have time. She’ll be there I promise. God I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted.” He helps me to pull the cotton top over my head and put some soft knickers on. He tenderly kisses my lips and brushes my damp hair out of my face.
“It’s okay Leighton, God I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Oh fuck,” I shout again as another contraction hit.
“Come on baby, work through it. It won’t be long; all the pain will be worth it. Our little baby will be here soon.” and with his help the pain soon rolls away.
He collects my hospital bag from the wardrobe; puts some slippers on my feet before carrying me downstairs like I am an invalid.
“Everything all right Mr. Lock?” I hear the deep voice of Carter, one of the security men, ask Leighton.
Another contraction hits me then and there, in front of all six security detail and my fiancé. “Oh Jesus Christ, Leighton it hurts, please stop it. Ouch, ooh, ooh, ooh, God I fucking hate you, you bloody bastard,
you
did this to me. Oh fuck,” I scream out the string of obscenities, feeling bad for what I have just said to Leighton.
“Good luck with that boss,” one of the men say laughing at us, before they up and leave us alone.
“Abbi, look at me. We can do this baby; you are strong, so very strong and beautiful. Now in out in out, just like we practiced, you’re doing so well angel.” His voice is so calm and controlled; it is mesmerising just to see how he is dealing with all of this, especially when all I want to do is rip his dick off and shove it up his arse.
“Please Leighton, just get it out of me.” I grip his arm tight, waiting for the pain to give me break. When it finally wanes he quickly transfers me to the large 4X4 parked in the underground spaces.
He doesn’t strap my belt around me as it is too tight around my constricting stomach.
“You okay baby?” he asks me with concern in his eyes. He drives with absolute precision and carefulness along the country lanes; it actually begins to piss me off. I have a person in me, stretching my fricking cervix and he is driving like an old fucking man.
“I would be if you stopped driving like a fucking pensioner, put your foot down Leighton or so help me God,” the effects of another contraction are turning me into mummazilla, but in this second I couldn’t give a flying fuck. I want to rip the child from my womb to stop the pain. I can feel it all the way through me, penetrating my legs, back, uterus, vagina and my head. God my head is hurting something fierce. The pressure from tensing as every contraction comes makes my head feel like a sledge hammer has been taken to it.
He speeds up by all of five miles an hour; I want to slap him upside the head. “Did you call Lisa and Carl, I need her there, I can’t do this without her,” I need my mum, she can take the pain away, she always does.
“Yes baby, there close by. They were on their way to see you for New Year’s so they had a hotel booked for tonight. There were nearly here but they’re going to come straight to the hospital; she’ll probably be there before we are. So calm down and try to relax, it’s not good for the baby.” Is he for real?
“Good for the baby? I’ll tell you what’s not good for the baby, its daddy murdered by its mother for being born in a fucking car because its father doesn’t want to drive above the stupid bloody speed limit. Don’t tell me what’s good for my baby Leighton or I’ll rip your fucking dick off and force feed it to you. Now hurry the fucking hell up.” rant over, that shut him up and he puts his foot down a little more.
“Please, baby, just stop, I can’t take anymore. You’re hurting mummy.” I say to my stomach, as I rub it to ease the pain, the tears in my eyes are falling on my cheeks, and I can’t stop them. The pain is so bad, the feeling similar to period pains but multiplied by a gazillion. I want to curl into a ball and die.
“Baby, I’m sorry, God, I wish I could help you, to take the pain away.” His tender words help with the pain, his warm hand clasping mine and squeezing slightly to let me know he is there beside me.
“How far are we now, I can’t sit any longer, I need to lie down.” I can’t stand this seated position, I want to curl up or bend over to relieve some of the throbbing in my uterus.
