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It isn’t supposed to go like this. This isn’t how it was meant to happen.
Everything has been arranged and planned accordingly, nothing’s left to chance. When her contractions begin the last evening of November, the man and his wife know exactly what to do. They take her hospital bag and leave.
Before the entrance of the hospital the man stops and looks at his wife, this beautiful perfect woman, balloon big belly. She’s excited, emotional and a bit scared, her eyes are brimming with tears and she’s laughing nervously and a bit hysterically, trying not to cry. With his free hand he grabs her, pulls her and her bump against him, whispers some loving words in her ear, she’ll do great - she has to - we got this. He can feel her smiling against him, and a relieved sigh leaves her lips, a puff against his ear. Everything will be ok.
The evening starts pleasant enough. Her quiet chatter fills the labor room: who will he take after - her little boy, his heir, their future; will he be born during the night or in the morning. Recurring sweet questions which will soon meet their answer. They hold each other’s hands and share their last night together, whispering, the two of them, forever united in a fantasy.
Evening becomes night and night morning, and her contractions grow bigger, longer, more painful. The atmosphere in the room grows more and more desperate, or at least that what’s it feels like to the man. He must remain strong, even though his favorite person in this world is hurting, slipping away. There is so little he can do beside holding her hand. Or is there?
Could he use his powers to ease the pain, give her strength? He’s done this before, pass his powers down to people. Never on her, she always refused when he offered. But now he doesn’t ask her, since she seems to be so out of it. He slowly removes his hand from her clutching hand to her moving belly and sends out some psychic power. Pushing his own nerves down, away, while imagining his concern reaching out to her and the baby. Come out now little boy, this has been going on long enough. A few seconds pass and her crunched up face slowly relaxes. She opens her bleary eyes, smiles at him warmly and lifts her hand weakly to caress his cheek. He kisses her forehead, while still holding on, and she feels so warm, so full of life.
She relaxes further and seemingly starts dozing off. The man closes his eyes for a few moments as well, his forehead resting by her side, his hand still on her belly. He wakes up when a new face enters the room, the morning shift must have started. This new nurse checks a paper strip and looks very concerned. She starts asking lots of questions. How long has she been sleeping? When did the last nurse visit? Did they check her blood pressure? She starts waking up your wife, who still looks a bit dazed, takes her temperature and rushes out of the room.
A doctor enters the room with a group of nurses in his wake and pushes the man aside. The woman’s voice asks weakly what’s happening while the doctor holds a stethoscope to her swollen belly, a nurse takes her temperature again, two others discuss the readings on the paper strip. Whispers, a dropping heartbeat, murmurs, now, the baby needs to get out, now. The women gather around the bed, lift the side rails, and they rush out of the room with the bed.
In the confusion the man gets left behind in the room, ordered to stay there, someone will come for you sir. He stays there for a few moments, dazed, staring at the door, hoping for a release in the form of a person. It is not supposed to go like this, what happened, is it a curse, it must be a curse, who did he piss off, what did he miss, he’ll destroy them, all of them, every last one of them, who do they think he is, is this his doing, is she gone…
he hurt her he hurt her he hurt her.
The flickering of the light interrupt his racing thoughts and he realizes that he is building up psychic energy: there’s a thumping noise in his ears, the furniture is shaking, medical equipment floating around.
He can’t do this, not here, he has to calm down, he is in control, always.
Snap out of it, go find her, she’ll be all right, she is all right, everything is ok, there is no curse. It was all a mistake.
He storms out the door and spins around in a hallway of closed doors. She’s not there, no one is. In the distance he hears a baby cry. He is completely and utterly alone.