She pointed at the bed.

“And she’s hemorrhaging.”

The doctor ripped the remaining blanket away from Megan’s legs.

The metallic smell of blood immediately hit my nose, thick and heavy.

He pressed his hands onto Megan’s swollen stomach.

Megan let out a low, guttural groan, her head thrashing against the pillow.

“She’s rigid,” the doctor said, his face tightening. “The uterus is tetanic.”

He looked up at me, his eyes locking onto mine.

“Are you the husband?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice shaking. “Jake. I’m Jake.”

“Jake, your wife is in severe trouble,” he said, checking her pupillary reflex with a small penlight.

“What is happening to her?” I asked, my chest tightening so hard I could barely breathe.

“The toxin in her system is causing a catastrophic reaction,” the doctor said.

He began pulling on a pair of sterile latex gloves.

The snap of the rubber sounded like a gunshot in the small room.

“It has triggered a premature labor, and worse, her placenta is detaching.”

“Is the baby okay?” I asked.

The fetal monitor beeped again, the tone lower now, slower.

*Beep… beep… beep…*