46. Olivia

Olivia

Y ou are pregnant.

My pulse roars in my ears.

You are pregnant.

My stomach turns to knots.

You. Are. Pregnant.

My head spins.

The doctor makes no sense. How can I be pregnant? “You have to be mistaken,” I say when he doesn’t answer my initial question.

I only came to the hospital because the guys forced me. I tried to explain that it was only a stupid cold and that I’d stop coughing once I got better, but they refused to listen. Jasper even insisted I was having another case of pneumonia. When my chest started hurting, Jasper was even more convinced he was right.

When I mentioned to the doctor that not only my chest bothered me, but also my stomach, he decided to perform an ultrasound. It was then that I asked if my men could be present because if something was seriously wrong with me, I wanted them to be with me to support me.

My men stand close to the bed I’m on, looking just as confused as I am—except Mose. He looks composed, with a subtle hint of happiness.

“Look at the monitor,” the doctor says. “Judging from the size of the fetus, I would say you are about three months long.”

I only do as he asks because I know it’s impossible for me to have a baby. My gaze falls on the tiny shape on the monitor. There’s no doubt that a new life is growing inside me. Tears prick my eyes. How is this possible? What am I going to do when my body rejects the baby? When I hold his tiny body in my arms and watch him slowly die, I will die along with him, like I should have done with Spencer.

Blood rushes to my ears. I refuse to live the same trauma twice.

The doctor says something, but I can’t hear him because I’m too busy trying to figure out how it is possible. Yet, nothing comes to mind, no matter how hard I try to think. For years, no matter how many times men used me, I never got pregnant, clear evidence that the Bitch did remove my tubes. A few months with my men and boom, baby on board. It’s not like they have magical sperm.

I can’t stop staring at the little blob already shaped like a baby. He moves but is too small for me to feel him. My stomach is flat, the only sign of my pregnancy is my heavy breasts. I don’t even have morning sickness. No wonder I didn’t realize it earlier.

All I can think about is Spencer and how I would place my hands on my stomach each time he moved. What a joyous time that was, not like now, when… I can’t go through the same suffering.

My chest hurts. Not only my chest but my entire body.

I am pregnant. But I don’t want the baby. I can’t .

I start to cough again.

The doctor finishes the ultrasound and wipes the gel from my abdomen. He ignores the scars on my body—thank fuck, because I don’t have the energy to make up some lie about what happened to me. At least the word whore carved on my abdomen by my father has mostly faded away, due to my darkness. “We will get the other test results soon, and then we will know why you are coughing so much.”

Tyson is the first to snap out of the initial shock. “Is the baby…healthy?”

The doctor glances at him. “Are you the father?”

It is Mose who says, “Mine.”

My ears ring again. I feel like vomiting, screaming, crying, and killing someone at the same time. What did Mose do to me? How was he able to get me pregnant? Did he do it on purpose?

The doctor starts to explain, “The baby—”

I start to cry. “Take it out.” Everyone looks at me. The bond with Mose vibrates with pain. “I want an abortion. I can’t…” I choke on my words. Spencer’s little body appears in front of my eyes once more. All the anguish, all the desperation, all the sorrow I felt back then returns in full force, burying me under a mountain of grief. “Please. I can’t.” The bonds between all of us hurt. They can’t possibly want this baby knowing what I went through, knowing that the only thing that kept me sane was the drugs Carlos or Jason had given me. Not that they drugged me out of the goodness of their hearts, but because they wanted me docile while terrible things were done to me.

“It will be alright,” Tyson tries to reassure me, but no one can. Not while my father and Jason are out there. Not when Azael is my mortal enemy. “We’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.” But it is them who are hurting me by wanting this baby.

My darkness tries to calm me down, but I can’t, not when my own body betrayed me again.

“Olivia,” Mose tries to soothe my fear but I don’t want to see him right now.

“Get it out!” I yell before I start coughing again. Mose tries to offer me a water bottle, but I knock it out of his hand. “Don’t come near me!”

The doctor calls out for a nurse.

I need to get out of here.

Tyson and Jasper would never hurt a baby, especially an unborn one. While Rueben has a bad temper, I don’t think he would help me either. I rip off the hospital bracelet and get out of bed. “Ansel, take me out of here.”

“We will talk about this when you calm down,” Ansel tells me.

I start to cry hysterically. “Fuck you all then! I don’t need permission from anyone to leave the hospital or to get an abortion.”

“Miss Deymar—” the doctor calls me, and I give him a death glare.

“Don’t call me that,” I snap at him.

A nurse appears and she prepares a syringe. I know what will happen next—they are going to sedate me and send me to the psychiatric ward, but I don’t belong there just because I don’t want a baby that was forced on me. What the fuck was Mose thinking when he got me pregnant? That I’d be happy and want to play family with him?

“What are you doing with that?” Rueben snarls when he sees the nurse approaching me.

Maybe I should have asked Rueben for help. “Rueben, please.” I reach out my hands for him. Between tears, I can tell he’s conflicted about what to do.

“It’s just a sedative. It won’t affect the pregnancy,” the doctor explains. But I want it to affect the pregnancy as I don’t want this baby. Why is no one listening to me?

“I want an abortion!” I let out a last desperate cry, but no one helps me. The nurse and the doctor grab my arms. Can’t they see I’m not fighting them? I feel a sharp pain in my upper arm. It takes only seconds for the sedative to take effect.

Before my eyelids close, I stare at Mose. “Why?” I ask before I pass out.

Tyson opens the passenger door for me. “We are home,” he says like I don’t know it and holds out his hand, wanting to help me get out of the car, but I don’t need his help. I don’t need anyone’s help.

Not Jasper’s, who is taking out my bag of clothes from the car’s trunk, nor Rueben’s, who is silently watching me, his hands gripping the wheel. Nor Ansel’s, who is sitting beside me, his eyes pleading with me to trust him. How can I trust any of them when they refuse to give me the one thing that I so desperately need—to be taken to an abortion clinic?

I wish the doctor would have discovered that I have cancer or some other incurable illness. Instead of that, he only found out that I have bronchitis—after starting the treatment, I already feel much better, and I barely cough now—and that I’m pregnant.

The guys want the baby, I don’t.

We didn’t talk about it because I can’t, but I can feel how happy they are even if they haven’t expressed their emotions. The only thing I want to talk about is them acknowledging my…deep fear of continuing with this pregnancy.

Without saying a word, I get out of the car, and walk past Tyson, going directly to the cabin. Mose is sitting on the sofa, his hair all disheveled and a guilty expression on his face. He looks like he hasn’t slept since the night in the ER. I guess that my panic attack from two days ago made him realize how much he hurt me.

Upon seeing me, he quickly stands. “Olivia.” He sounds hoarse. In other circumstances, I would have cared about his well-being, but all I can think about is that a baby is growing in my belly, a baby that he put inside me.

“Don’t,” I warn him that I don’t want him anywhere near me. Mose’s shoulders slump forward. “How?” is all I want to know.

“Cocoa. Dd-vine po-pp-power,” he struggles to explain. “M-mmade yyo-you w-well.”

It takes me several moments to remember the night we had hot cocoa together. I trusted him so much, and he betrayed me in the worst way possible.

I feel so… violated.

He modified my body without consulting me first.

“You mean…you used your divine powers to give me tubes?” Mose nods, letting me know I got it right. “I can get pregnant…again?”

“Yes,” Mose rasps.

Anger surges through my veins. “How fucking dare you make decisions that affect me without my consent!? I fucking loved you with all my heart, I opened myself to you body and soul, and this is how you repay me? By knocking me up with a bastard that I never wanted in the first place? God only knows what…else you did to me.” I wanted to say another thing entirely, but he’s not worth it. “I wish Mose, the real Mose, would return. He would have never done something like this to me.”

Mose presses his lips together, and I go to the room that was supposed to be for the child we were supposed to adopt somewhere in the future, but not now, when I’m still not ready.

Rueben spent about a week taking down the nursery and putting it back together in the cabin. When the others offered to help him, he refused, saying it was his responsibility to prepare the Lair for our family. The nursery is like being pulled out of my dreams. It’s everything I would have wanted for Spencer or the child we would have eventually adopted in the next few years.

I close the door behind me and walk up to the crib, where I fall to my knees, bury my face in my hands, and start to cry. My whole body shakes. In other circumstances, I would have been ecstatic to be pregnant, but not when my body is so fucking weak. I can’t fail another baby.

My arms wrap around my stomach, trying to protect the little life growing inside me. I might want an abortion for selfish reasons, but I can’t help but start loving the baby within my womb.

What am I going to do now? How will I survive the following months?

I want to protect him or her while promising that everything will be alright and that I’m here, but that would be lying. Tears keep streaming from my eyes. I feel like I can’t breathe, that I’ll never truly be happy no matter what I do.

The door opens and quickly shuts. I don’t need to look to know it is Ansel who entered. He picks me up from the floor and sits in the armchair with me on his lap. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, sobbing against his skin. His hand wraps around my nape, his thumb draws circles on my skin.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he says.

“Then help me.”

I don’t need to explain what I want, because I have made my wishes clear more than once.

“Is it so terrible to be pregnant with our child?” Ansel wonders.

For a moment, I contemplate saying how much I hate the baby, that I was much happier when I could not get pregnant naturally, but I would be lying.

“You wouldn’t understand,” I sob.

“Perhaps. But what I do understand is that you deserve happiness. You deserve a warm home and five men willing to do everything for you. More than anything, you deserve a loving family, children included.”

I lift my head. Ansel gently cleans my face with the hem of his T-shirt. “We could adopt, just like we planned.”

Ansel still doesn’t get it. “Give me one good reason why you want to abort the baby, and I swear I’ll help you.”

I chew my bottom lip, knowing no matter what I say, no one will understand. “I can’t.” It’s the only explanation I can give.

Ansel is quiet for several minutes, probably thinking about how to convince me to keep the baby. The truth is that no matter what everyone around me says, I won’t change my mind.

“I’ve observed you for a long time. I’d like to think that I know you better than anyone, even Tyson. The intensity with which you love someone makes me believe that you not only want the baby but that you already love him. I know you are scared, it is only natural to feel like this after everything you went through. Some traumas and scars never fade away.” He has no idea how right he is about this. “It is also normal to mourn someone’s death for many years, even for a lifetime. Queen Victoria never got past her husband’s death. But you are not her, and life gave you another chance to be happy. It is up to you if you take it or not, but if you tell me with all sincerity that you hate the baby and you never want to have children, I will support you. We both know that is not the case because you are the one who mentioned adoption in the first place.”

I hate that he is so right. “I want to be happy, but being pregnant will only make me miserable.”

“What do you need from us to feel safe?” Before I reply, he adds, “Blow up the entire city and then move to some remote place where no one will ever find us?”

I shake my head before finally deciding to tell him the truth. “It’s because of me. I failed Spencer, and it will happen again with this baby.”

Ansel frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“I went into labor prematurely. Spencer didn’t make it because my body couldn’t carry him full term. What if the same happens with this baby?”

“It won’t,” Ansel says, “and even if it does, it will be different. We will go to Hell and back if it’s for you and the baby’s protection.”

I desperately want to believe him because I don’t think I can kill the baby or let anyone else harm him. It’s been a while since I’ve been so conflicted. “What happens when the Blight reaches us? I am supposed to fight for humanity. If I’m pregnant, how will I do that?”

Ansel keeps stroking my skin with his thumb. “The Apocalypse can be years away, or we can be attacked by Nephilims tomorrow. Regardless of what the future will bring, you have five men who love you with all their being. You are not alone.”

You are not alone.

Ansel is right.

I don’t know why I had never realized this until now. While I accepted them as mine, I still plan things as if I am alone in the world.

I am not alone.

I have five amazing men who are my bondeds.

I have a group of women that always have my back.

I have friends and allies.

And more importantly, I have my darkness.

“Life is too short to have regrets,” Ansel reminds me of my motto.

I inhale deeply. “While I haven’t changed my mind about the pregnancy, I will think about it and not make rash decisions.”

Ansel smiles. “Good.” He kisses my forehead. “I love you, Honey, so very much. And,” his palm rests on my stomach, “I already love the little one growing inside you.”

I lean my head on his shoulder. “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” he confesses.

We sit silently until the door opens, and Mose enters, grinning from ear to ear.

Didn’t he hear me when I told him that I wanted him to stay away from me?

“Beautiful, I’m back. Your wish came true,” Mose says.