Chapter 286: Affect The Fetus

\[Theodore\]

Deadly intent flashed in my eyes at the doctor's words. My vision narrowed to a predatory focus, a primal rage surging through my veins.

"Sir, I didn't say she has no vital signs," the doctor quickly corrected himself, backing away slightly as if he could physically feel the murderous thoughts radiating from me. "She's likely just in temporary shock from blood loss. Yes, shock!"

My eyelashes trembled as I took a deep breath, the air burning in my lungs like acid. I held Sarah even tighter against my chest, her body terrifyingly light and fragile in my arms. I wished I could somehow absorb her into my body, meld our flesh and blood until we were one entity that couldn't be separated by death or fate. 

The helicopter landed at the region's finest private hospital within minutes, the blades slicing through the air with deafening intensity that matched the chaos in my mind. Sarah was rushed into the emergency room on a gurney, her face ghostly pale against the stark white sheets, her lips tinged with an unnatural blue that sent spikes of terror through my heart. 

I stood frozen outside the double doors as they swung closed, separating us with a final, hollow thud that echoed in my chest like a death knell. My entire being seemed suspended in a moment of pure dread, muscles locked, lungs paralyzed. 

The shrill ring of my phone cut through my agonizing thoughts, each electronic note like a needle piercing my skull. My hands trembled so violently I nearly dropped the device, fingers numb with fear as I fumbled to answer.

"How's Sarah?" Mike's voice was urgent, edged with barely contained anxiety. "I've dealt with that old bastard! Just as I predicted, he tried to escape through the back door, but we caught him immediately!"

My Adam's apple bobbed as I swallowed hard. "She was shot in the arm. They're treating her now."

"Which hospital? I'm coming right away!" After a brief pause, he added, "Was she conscious when you found her?"

I couldn't answer, my throat constricting around words that refused to form. A violent tremor ran through my body at the memory of Sarah's limp form, blood seeping through her clothes, her face drained of all color. 

"Say something!" Mike roared through the phone. "Theodore, damn it, answer me!"

"She has to be alive," I finally managed, the words scraping against my throat like broken glass. My voice sounded foreign to my own ears—hollow, fractured, barely human. 

I took another deep breath, forcing oxygen into my lungs that felt like they were filled with razor blades. Somehow I steadied my voice, drawing on reserves of control I didn't know I still possessed. "Go back to Sarah's house first. Emma and William are still there waiting for news. You should explain things to them."

"Explain what? Tell them their mother is dying?" Mike responded with bitter sarcasm. "Why don't you do that yourself?"

Something primal and raw erupted inside me at his words. "She's not dead!" My last thread of rationality snapped like an overstretched wire, my voice rising to a roar that echoed through the sterile hospital corridor. "I said she's not dead! She can't be dead!"

After what felt like an eternity of standing in purgatory, the emergency room doors finally swung open, and a doctor hurried out, clipboard in hand. Each second of waiting had been its own special torture, my mind conjuring increasingly horrific scenarios that left me drenched in cold sweat.

"Sir, are you family?" he asked, looking up from his notes.

I strode forward, closing the distance between us in two long steps, my heart hammering so violently I could feel it in my fingertips, my temples, my very teeth. "Yes! I am!"

"Is the patient pregnant? There appears to be a slight protrusion in her abdomen..." the doctor inquired, his expression professionally neutral.

"Yes! Almost four months along!" My voice cracked with emotion, the words catching painfully in my throat. 

The doctor began explaining her condition, but I couldn't contain myself, interrupting him mid-sentence, desperation clawing at my insides: "Is she alive?! Tell me, is she still alive!"

"Sir, yes, she's alive," the doctor confirmed, his voice softening slightly at my obvious distress. "Her breathing was weak when she arrived, but after emergency treatment, it's gradually returning to normal. However, she currently has a high fever that won't break, and she's lost a significant amount of blood. We need to bring down her temperature and remove the bullet."

Relief crashed through me with such force that my legs nearly buckled. My eyes burned with sudden moisture, vision blurring as I whispered, "I knew she was still alive..." 

"Sir, what is your relationship to the patient? Can we contact her husband?" the doctor continued. "Because of her pregnancy, we're hesitant to administer certain medications. Any drug we use could potentially affect the fetus."

I froze momentarily, my blood turning to ice. The choice now looming before me was too cruel, too impossible. Sarah and our unborn child—the two most precious beings in my universe—were balanced on opposite sides of a scale I was being forced to tip.

Then I spoke with unwavering determination, though each word felt like it was being carved from my flesh: "Just make her well. Use whatever medication you need to. Her health is what matters most."

"Are you her husband?"

Resolve burned in my eyes as I answered: "I am the father of her child." 

Of course I wanted to save them both, but faced with a choice, Sarah's life was unquestionably my priority. Our baby was almost four months along now—if not for this incident, we would have seen a clear image of its face at the next checkup. The thought cut through me like a blade, twisting deeper with each beat of my heart. 

"Very well, sir. Please sign this informed consent form," the doctor handed me a document. "Do we have permission to administer anesthesia for the bullet removal? Anesthesia has significant effects on the fetus. If you want to preserve the pregnancy, we can proceed without it."

"That would cause her extreme pain, wouldn't it?" I asked, my voice strangled by the impossible choice before me. 

"Yes, it would be incredibly painful. But survivable," the doctor replied matter-of-factly.

"She's already so weak. I can't let her suffer more," I felt my heart tearing in two as I made the decision, a piece of my soul dying with the words. My hand shook as I signed the form, the pen nearly slipping from my grasp. "Give her the anesthesia."

"Very well." The doctor accepted the signed form and turned back toward the emergency room.