Safe

Safe
At first, Tara thought the pain was just another cruel trick of exhaustion. It started as a dull ache low in her abdomen, sharp enough to make her gasp, but not enough to raise alarm. She pressed a trembling hand against her stomach, breathing through it, whispering to herself to stay calm. But then—warmth. Wetness.

When she looked down, crimson bloomed between her fingers.

A strangled cry tore from her throat. “No—no, no, please…”

Her knees buckled, hitting the cold basement floor. The world blurred around her, her breath coming in short, broken bursts. Panic crawled up her chest, choking her. “Ethan!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Ethan, help me!”

The door burst open a moment later. Ethan’s face went pale when he saw her sprawled on the floor, blood seeping through the fabric of her dress, spreading dark and fast. “Tara—what the hell—”

“I’m bleeding!” she sobbed, reaching for him. “Please, do something! Please!”

For a split second, he froze—the cruel edge in his eyes fading into something almost human. Then instinct took over. He dropped to his knees, tearing the hem of his shirt to press it against her wound. “You’re going to be fine,” he muttered, voice shaking as much as his hands. “Don’t move, okay? Just—just hold on.”

Tara’s breath hitched. Her vision was fading at the edges, the room spinning. “It hurts,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Ethan, I think I’m pregnant…”

The words hit him like a slap. His hands faltered, eyes wide with disbelief. “What?”

She blinked weakly, tears cutting trails through the grime on her face. “Please… save the baby…”

For a long moment, he just stared at her—confusion, anger, and something else flickering behind his eyes. Then, without another word, he scooped her up, blood staining his arms.

He carried her out into the night, kicking the basement door open with his shoulder. The cold air bit at his skin, but he didn’t care. His old truck sat rusting in the yard, and he shoved the door open with his elbow, laying her gently on the seat.

“Stay awake, Tara!” he barked as he turned the key, the engine sputtering to life. “Don’t close your eyes, you hear me?”

“I—I can’t…” she whispered, her body trembling uncontrollably.

“Damn it, you will!” Ethan growled, slamming his foot on the gas. The truck lurched forward, tearing down the dirt road toward the nearest hospital miles away.

The headlights carved through the darkness, catching on trees and signs that blurred past. Tara’s head lolled to the side, her lips pale. He reached over, gripping her hand tightly.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” he said through gritted teeth, voice cracking. “Not you… not now.”

Blood soaked the seat. The hospital lights appeared faintly in the distance—too far, but close enough to give him hope.

Tara’s eyes fluttered open one last time, her lips trembling. “Ethan…” she whispered weakly. “Please—save—”

Her voice broke, her hand slipping from his grasp.

Ethan roared her name into the night, his voice lost beneath the sound of sirens growing nearer.

The bright, sterile light of the hospital room was the first thing Tara saw when her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, everything felt distant — the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor, the faint hum of voices outside the curtain, the cool scent of antiseptic.

Her throat felt dry, her lips cracked as she tried to speak. “W-where…”

“You’re at St. Clare’s Hospital,” a gentle voice said. A nurse leaned over, her tone soft but reassuring. “You’re safe now, miss. Try not to move too much.”

Tara blinked, her vision slowly clearing. Her hands trembled as she lifted them, noticing the IV line attached to her wrist. Her stomach was bandaged, and her chest rose with shallow breaths. Then it all came rushing back — the pain, the blood, Ethan’s panicked face, the darkness.

“The baby…” she whispered hoarsely, fear flooding her voice. “Please, tell me the baby’s—”

Before the nurse could answer, the curtain slid open, and a doctor stepped in, clipboard in hand. He was middle-aged, with kind eyes behind his glasses and the calm voice of someone used to giving heavy news.

“Miss Tara Vale,” he said, offering her a faint smile. “You’re very lucky to be alive.”

Tara’s heart pounded as she clutched the sheets. “Please… just tell me… my baby?”

The doctor’s expression softened. “The baby is fine,” he said gently. “You had a threatened miscarriage due to severe stress and trauma, but we managed to stabilize you both in time. You need rest — and no more strain, emotionally or physically. Understand?”

For a heartbeat, Tara couldn’t speak. Tears welled in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks as she covered her mouth, her body shaking with relief. “Thank God,” she breathed, her voice breaking. “Thank God…”

Ethan stood quietly by the door, still in the bloodstained shirt from earlier. His face was pale, his jaw tight, but the moment he heard the doctor’s words, his shoulders sagged in visible relief.

The doctor turned to him. “You were smart to bring her here fast. Any delay, and the outcome could’ve been much worse.”

Ethan nodded stiffly. “Can I… see her?”

The doctor hesitated, glancing at Tara. She gave a small nod.

Ethan stepped forward, his boots heavy against the tiled floor. He stopped beside her bed, eyes darting from the monitor to her pale face. “You scared the hell out of me,” he muttered.

Tara looked away, her voice weak. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t either,” he admitted quietly. “But when I saw the blood… I—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re safe. That’s all that matters now.”

The doctor scribbled something on his chart before leaving. “She’ll need observation for a few days,” he said before walking out.

Silence filled the room. Tara wiped her tears with shaky hands. For the first time in days, she felt a flicker of hope — fragile, but real.

Her hand drifted to her stomach, and she whispered, “We made it, baby… we made it.”