Buns in the Oven

Blaire

I rushed back to the toilet despite just existing, hunching over the toilet seat to pour my sour guts into the white pit.

As I knelt before the toilet seat, the acrid taste of bile stung the back of my throat. The bathroom tiles, once a soothing shade of blue, now seemed like a never-ending sea of cool relief against my feverish skin.

I retched as more of nothing flew out of my mouth because, thanks to my frequent urge to vomit, I've had nothing stay in my stomach.

I coughed out, nearly choking on the vomit stuck in my throat in my desperate attempts to breathe. My trembling fingers held onto the most I could of the toilet to keep me from falling from the dizziness that brewed.

The constant retching had left my stomach empty, and the dry heaves were becoming more painful with each passing moment.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my left hand, I drew in a deep breath to cork the urge to vomit—or at least hope it got corked—and pressed the back of my right hand to my forehead. A hiss tore through me at the realization that my fever had not reduced; rather, it had added a degree to its heat.

I heard the loud bang of the door, and soft footsteps came next, followed by the soft landing of something on the bed.

"Blaire? Hello?" Emmett's airy voice rang.

I hissed at how loudly my ears perceived her voice. I had no idea what was happening to me. On a normal note, Emmett's loud voice never sounded like speakers worn over my ears.

"Blaire?" I heard her call out again, accompanied by her steps nearing the bathroom.

I had no idea why I was being incredulously quiet, but with one quick remembrance of how my ears and body had reacted to her voice, I figured out why.

"Are you not home? I brought pasta and picanté sauce...?"

The mention of food had me gagging, taking me back to square one and giving away my presence. I frowned as bile flew out of my throat. It was getting frustrating how much I still felt like vomiting when literally nothing else, except bile, was left in my guts.

The bathroom creaked open, and I perceived the sweet lavender that I had come to recognize as Emmett's signature scent. I lowered my head, retching more and more, tightening my grip on the toilet.

I heard a sigh of defeat from Emmett, followed by her nearing steps. I felt her soon behind me, and soon enough, her hands began rubbing circles on my back, gently patting me. I loved it when she did that; it always calmed me down.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, concern etched across her face.

"Feel better?" She softly whispered again.

I managed to give her a weak and gentle nod, grateful for her presence because I felt like one wrong move and my head might fall off my body. The headache and bodyache were unbearable.

"Does your back still hurt?"

My back? Oh yeah, I was brutally reminded of waking up in a cell after passing out that night. To think I had a shred of hope that London would do something and maybe come to my rescue—ha, what a joke!

My hope burned away when I was held down on the training ground and publicly whipped with that god-awful weapon, and trust me when I say it hurt like a bitch.

Each stroke sent deep, dark volts of pain to invade my spine and disperse in my bloodstream while outwardly ripping off my skin. I remembered my painful screams, and at some point, my screams became voiceless because I was too numb to let voices fly out.

To make it worse, Cane had instructed that I was not to be taken to a doctor at the end of my designated whips, which left me a bloodied mess on the floor.

My eyes closed on reflex as my body shook at the awful reenactment of the hell I lived through that day and the days after. My wolf, Hera, wasn't inclined toward healing; in fact, she had slowed healing abilities.

I was surprised to find most of the scars healed and almost faded, but I owed it all to Emmett, who dedicatedly treated me, applying an ointment she had made herself from wild flowers and oil. She said it was a healing brew that her mother had taught her.

"Thanks." I hoarsely spoke, preparing myself to leave the floor and clean myself and the toilet that I had messed up.

Emmett eyed me with concern, lining her bright green orbs, choosing not to voice out what I knew was sitting on her mind, and I was appreciative of her kind consideration because, honestly, I wasn't ready to go down that road again.

"Have you had a bath?" She managed to ask, deciding to sweep the tension under the rug.

I negatively shook my head, forcing my focus to remain on cleaning myself. I found Emmett staring at me through the mirror, her plaited blonde hair growing stubborn baby hairs that framed her face and brushed her forehead.

I spotted a bandage wrapped around her right palm, and my brows furrowed. She noticed my gaze and put the injured hand away.

"I fell while carrying the iron bucket."

I sighed, hating that, thanks to my growing ailment, she was taking it upon herself to do my share of the work. That iron bucket was way past her capacity, and so were the others, seeing as she was smallish.

"I'd resume carrying the buckets this evening." I sniffled, taking water in my mouth and moving it about to rinse my mouth.

I spat it out, reaching for the towel, but Emmett had seized it. I stared at her, her face holding the expression that said everything she wanted to. I sighed, dropping my hand.

"You can't survive by being avoidant and stubborn. There is obviously something wrong with you, and it's been going on for weeks. Why don't you want to see a doctor?" She queried.

"I wasn't allowed to see a doctor." I rushed out.

She scoffed, "Don't give me that crap, Blaire. We both know that was because you were on punishment, which is over now." She gave my back a pointed look.

"Well, I don't want to go to the doctor."

She scoffed incredulously, "Why?" Phobia of infirmaries?"

No, Emmett, it's more like a mental trauma thing. The last time I went to an infirmary, it paved the way for my misery. I recalled Vinnie, and my breathing became unbearable. I knew blaming the infirmary would not solve anything, but to be fair, everything misfortune in my life started from that moment.

She took my silence with a keen eye before sighing, "What about your wolf? Does she have an inclination as to what's wrong with you?"

I hadn't heard from Hera since that night, and I found her silence somewhat odd. I had tried reaching her, but there was a weird aura around her, and I decided to leave her be. Perhaps she was dealing with coming to terms with the indisputable fact that London was a horrible monster.

"I'd be fine." I brushed her off; I was not in the mood for any furthering of the discussion. My feet were aching.

The look Emmett gave me was almost pitiful. I know she was just looking out for me, but the way she kept harping on about going to the infirmary with those expressions that I couldn't quite grasp sometimes makes me think that she might have an idea of what's wrong with me.

"Aren't you a healer? You can diagnose me." I gesticulated at myself.

She opened her mouth as a sign of wanting to speak but kept quiet, and she inched closer to me. She gently took my hands in hers with a penetrative gaze locked on my tired orbs.

"Perhaps you already know. Besides, I'm only inclined toward injury treatment. I wasn't allowed to go further and gain more knowledge after my mother's death. My diagnosis could be wrong, though, and that's why I wouldn't make any groundless judgments. What you need is a certified professional running tests on you because it could be something serious."

"What? What do you mean by that?" I asked with curiosity as her words struck me.

Perhaps I already knew? My diagnosis could be wrong?

She brushed past me, heading out of the bathroom with me waddling behind her. She was at the table with the old container in her hands. A smile formed on her face when she turned to me.

"You haven't eaten since today, so after returning the cleaning supply, I snuck into the kitchen and made this for you." She grinned, and my eyes widened at her.

"You could have gotten caught!"

She winked at me, "but I didn't."

"I could have just eaten what they were serving." I deadpanned, and she tipped a brow at me.

"Cold oats and dried bread?"

The mere mention of it alone was disgusting and nearly had me running back to the toilet.

She looked satisfied with my reaction and turned to chirpily grab our forks, "I snuck these too." She confessed while flashing the bronze forks at me like a magician holding a deck of cards.

"I hope the Alpha doesn't catch you. You're lucky Eliza is not head of domestics anymore, else…"

She groaned at my words: "Good riddance to that housefly. I couldn't stand her voice anyway."

I smiled at her, taking the spoon that she was offering me, but there was a little sway in my vision, and I saw myself holding my head.

"Blaire, are you okay?" I heard Emmett's worried tone.

"I'm-I'm fine… just a little dizzy." I forced a smile at her.

I made to take a step, but the rotation of my vision and sudden lightness that claimed me had the plate in my hand shaking. My breaths got shallow as my head spun. I swayed in my steps a little, shaking my head lightly to shake off the dizziness, but it was futile.

"So I was thinking if I should a–" Emmett began, but I could hear the rest of it over the loud crash of the plate in my hands.

My hands trembled as my vision blurred. I managed to make out Emmett rushing towards me, but I couldn't hear a word she was saying.

"E-Emme–"

I was forcefully plunged into darkness.

°°°

I heard loud, continuous beeping and voices. I felt warmth on my hand, along with movement. My heavy eyes were struggling to have their lids flitter open. My body felt heavy, along with my head. I let out a groan at the dryness of my throat. I was in urgent need of water.

An unfamiliar scent floated in the air, and my stomach turned at the overly sweet smell. I managed to move my head to the left and gently to the right while my eyes fought to open.

"W-water." I rasped.

I heard shuffling before hearing the sound of water being poured, and I felt a cold item getting placed in my hand.

"Are you okay?" A calm male voice asked.

My eyes fluttered open, the light in the room stung my sight, and I saw myself pulling my eyes shut with irritation and looking away.

"Too bright." I hoarsely whispered.

"Let me close the curtains."

I heard movements and finally the sound of the curtains getting drawn before deeming it safe to open my sore eyes.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." The young, good-looking, short-brown-haired man clad in a lab coat said.

Lab coat?

My body jolted up from the bed with such speed that my head spun, and I saw myself lying back down with a groan.

"Ma'am, you really shouldn't be treating yourself carelessly; it's not good for both of your health."

My brows furrowed in confusion, and so did my facials. Both your health? What the hell did he mean? My eyes dipped to land on his name tag. 'Doctor R.L. Miller', was his name.

"Excuse me?" I said, begging him to come again.

"Yes, you and the baby's." He said.

Baby's? What?

Anger surged through my veins as I began unhooking myself from the contraption I was strapped to. How dare Emmett take me to an infirmary? Let alone one with an incompetent and confused doctor.

"Ma'am, what are you doing?"

"Can't you see? I'm leaving."

"You can't; you have to finish your drip first. You and your child are very weak. You nearly lost the baby." He continued.

My head was spinning with all the information. I couldn't help it; I snapped, "What baby are you fucking talking about? I'm not pregnant!"

He blinked at me before blowing out air as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Shit, you didn't know?"

"Are you sick or something?" I yelled at him, getting fed up with his antics.

"Ma'am, you're thirty-eight days pregnant."

I couldn't understand anything he was saying; all I could hear were my rapid heartbeats and heavy breathing. Alarms were going off in my head, along with denial.

I couldn't be...

I wasn't…

He wouldn't do that to me…

The moon goddess wouldn't be that wicked to make me have a baby for that bastard.

I found myself hyperventilating while my head spun. A million thoughts went through my head, but none of them could explain how I was feeling at the moment.

"No…" I muttered with a shaking head while taking a step back.

"Ma'am, please calm down." He had his hands in front of him as he took a step closer.

"No, I can't be... Don't you dare come close to me." I muttered, taking another backward step.

"Ma'am?"

"It-it can't be..." I was overdosing on disbelief.

I had no idea when a piercing screen tore through my lips, threatening to blow the roof off. How could London do this to me? How dare that heartless fellow ruin me like this?

He had messed up my life for good.