“Call an ambulance immediately,” Ethan whispered. His voice, normally a deep, calming baritone that soothed panicked mothers, was shaking violently. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide and dilated.
“An ambulance? Why?” I stammered, my own heart beginning to race. “She was just laughing. She said the baby was kicking.”
Ethan grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look directly into his terrified eyes.
“That wasn’t a normal kick,” Ethan said, his voice dropping to a harsh, desperate rasp. “Her abdomen is board-rigid. It’s tetanic. She’s having a hypertonic contraction.”
I stared at him blankly. “What does that mean?”
Ethan looked past me, through the glass doors, back into the brightly lit living room.
“It means it could be a massive uterine rupture or a severe placental abruption,” he said, the medical terminology hanging in the air like a death sentence. “She is bleeding internally. She is in mortal danger.”
I dropped my phone. It clattered against the wooden deck boards. I spun around, following Ethan’s horrified gaze through the glass window.
The cheerful chatter in the living room had abruptly stopped. Lauren’s smile was completely gone. She wasn’t laughing anymore. She had gone terrifyingly pale, both of her hands clutching her stomach as she slowly, agonizingly slipped from the armchair and collapsed directly onto the hardwood floor, right in front of everyone.
Chapter 2: The Life and Death Seconds
