"HOW NICE OF YOU TO JOIN ME, NATALIA.."
"IT'S ACTUALLY NATASHA, BUT, CLOSE ENOUGH.."
"WHATEVER DUMBASS.."
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loss
noun
plural noun: losses
1. the fact or process of losing something or someone.
"Losing someone you love, it doesn't ever go a...
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"SHE WAS HER MOTHER..."
---¤☆¤---
JULY 3RD, 1992. THEN.
⎯IF SHE WAS MORTAL, SHE WOULD HAVE DIED. But, she was no mortal. Correction, if she was not fully mortal. No, she was a half-blood. Daughter of Melinoë, Goddess of Madness and Propitiation to the Greeks. But to the Roman's, the Goddess of Propitiation and Mother of Ghosts.
Gold anchor runs through her veins. That's what kept her alive, that godly blood that littered her DNA. That's what made Natasha Addams survive that night. And the night after that. And so on and so on. Point is, if it wasn't for her Mother's godly heritage, Natasha wouldn't have survived being born months early.
But they didn't know that at the time. As the doctor's rushed to save her fragile life, all her parents could do was pray that she would live. That the godly blood that littered her DNA would help her. That they'd see their daughter live and grow. That they'd not have to bury her.
What was even harder was just waiting. Nothing but their panicked thoughts occupying them. The thought of their daughter. Their sweet little girl.. Her dark brown hair that wisped into tiny curls. Her smooth tan skin, splotched with pale pink.
Her big doe brown eyes that may never open. That may never get to see the world and its wonders. And to think those first few seconds that they got to see her before she was taken away. It may just be their last for all they knew.
⎯¤⚔️¤⎯
Fresh tears stream down her flushed face, her heart pounding frantically in her chest, adrenaline flooding her veins. Staring at the door, her hand subconsciously goes to rest on her stomach, an empty feeling in her heart. She wanted her baby. Taking a shaky breath, she grips onto the handrail of the bed, getting ready to search for the nurses. She needed her baby.
Gritting her teeth together in pain, she tries to pull herself up, her arms trembling under her weight. She was weak, she knew that. But, she needed her baby. And she would get her. Letting out a grunt of pain, she could feel warm blood drip from her stitches, her body aching. She shouldn't be doing this. But, that wasn't going to stop her. She needed her baby.
"Paging Doctor O'Connell." A female voice speaks through the speakers, "Repeat, paging Doctor O'Connell."
"Come on, Melinoë. You got this. Get it together. You're a fucking god for fucks sake." She grits her teeth.
Letting out a small grunt of pain, the rattling of the door breaks her focus, her arms giving out on her for a second. Fuck. Clutching her aching side, the door creaks open, her heart pounding in her chest. Was it Mateo? Was it a nurse? Was it her Hera? Glaring holes at the door with her stare, Mateo slowly wakes in, his hands trembling. His hospital gown was drenched in blood. No⎯She couldn't be dead. It⎯No.
