His Pretty Little Burden (Kids of The District, #4)

by Nicci Harris

I crawl to the bathroom on my hands and knees. Pressure bloats around my lower spine, sending shooting stars into my vision, while the need to get to the toilet keeps my tireless knees and hands sliding along the floorboards. Muscles inside me spasm. Nausea fills my stomach. And I'm no longer on my knees but lifted. Flipping in pain as strong arms carry me into the shower, I'm so confused by the moment. All I can feel is the devastating agony. It is all I have room for. Sir... The spray of the water hits my head, and he slides down to the marble tiles with me in his arms. My legs folded like a pyramid over his, my head in the cup of his elbow. I writhe. Cry out. Another burst erupts, and I scream so loud the sound continues to beat off the walls long into the next stabbing sensation, and the one after that. Or maybe I haven't stopped screaming. I don't know what's happening. "Help." Is all my throat has the energy to say between bursts of guttural sobs and screams. "Help." Trembling hands that belong to me reach to cup the pain. Then my back rips down the centre and my body opens. I reach for my core and bring my hand back. The sight of strings of blood drags another scream from me. As I wail at the viscous rouge fluid webbing my fingers, Clay pushes my hand from view. He cups my cheeks, directing my pooling eyes to his piercing blue orbs, a stark sight amidst the dread blurring my vision. "Don't look, Fawn." My name. Don’t look. The combination of those words twists my he...

miscarriage