Wallace
She noticed the change in his breathing and focused on it, trained her attention on anything but the pain. The suffering eased a little with his exhale, and her face naturally softened to that relief. A warmth spread through her with it, a sweet lull she could almost fall into had there not been so much pain. She wanted more, but wasn't sure if it really was from him or if maybe it was something natural. She'd never done this before. Was so young.
His voice came again, a whiskey brogue that maybe wasn't as frightening as it had been at first. Should it be? She ached to be soothed and comforted, wished to know she'd make it through this somehow. Not just the birth, but everything else. Everything that still made her so broken. He gave her a little of that, told her it would be alright, even if she wasn't sure she believed him. It was still nice to hear.
Then he described that sweet warmth within her, settling in behind the pain in a gentle numbing. Let it soothe ya, dove. Breathe. So it was from him. He was.. helping her. She tried to lift her eyes to him again, but -he was leaving! Don't go, she squeaked quietly, surprising herself that she would cling to a stranger that had just moments before frightened her. But he was already out of the darkness, bathed in sunlight as he rustled around for something.
And then she knew. Her body just knew, and with a strained cry she began pushing. She was dimly aware of him returning, calling softly, placing something on the ground near her and retreating again. She wanted to reach for him, have something to latch onto. Her eyes found him instead, brown and wide with fear. He became her lifeline then, and not something to be afraid of. Just for that moment. Then her eyes shut tight and she pushed.
After some time, the babe was born.
She climbed to her feet, still so heavy. So tired. But instincts were controlling her now, her mind quieted, and she bent down to clean his little nose so he could breathe. She tried not to notice the loud lavender that splashed his white beneath the birthing fluids, but she couldn't ignore the wet little wings plastered to his body. Now she did not seek the man's eyes, did not want to see if his reaction was as startled and unsettled as hers.
Something wasn't right though. The pains, the contractions were still there, racking her body anew. Her face was pinched, and she groaned helplessly. She lowered herself back to the ground, away but still nearby. And again she pushed with each tightening around her belly, until another babe entered the world. A girl. White and lavender too, but without wings. She shifted enough to clean her nose as well, her instincts still on autopilot as the babies took their first breaths.
With a fatigued sigh, she dropped her head to the ground, her nose brushing against something. She opened tired eyes to see it was, and began to cry. He'd heard her panicked urge for food, and gone to fetch some. Brought it back for her. As though he cared about her. As though someone, anyone, cared about her. Where had he been before all this happened? Why couldn't he have cared then, before she went through this? All she ever wanted was for someone to care. Just one person.
Now no one would ever want her.
She turned away in shame, her sides shaking as she wept. Little bodies nudged against her, seeking. They were the only ones that hadn't left her, not that they'd had a choice. They were the only ones that had been there as she cried herself to sleep with no one to hear it.
She was always alone.
