ghost of you // interracial

004. altering

August 5, 2013 (2:15 A.M.)

Santa Ana, California

Rain pelted against the tall windows of the hospital room. The rumbling of thunder shook the building as Camron tried to get comfortable on the very uncomfortable complimentary cot the nurses brought into the room for him. There was no way he'd be able to get any sleep; the cot was too hard, he was terrified of thunderstorms, and the anxiety of his daughter's imminent birth was too much to handle.

Turning onto his side, tossing the itchy hospital blanket off of him, Camron stared at Rebecca as she laid in the hospital bed with all kinds of tubes and machines hooked up to her. She looked beautiful, the blue-light from the television illuminating her features as she slept. He couldn't understand how she was able to sleep through everything that was happening, because he sure as hell wasn't able to, but he figured that going into labor was probably pretty exhausting.

"Becca," he whispered, not wanting to wake her but not really minding if he ended up doing so. "Becca, you awake?"

One eye snapped open as she let out a groan of frustration before lifting her head a bit.

"Camron, please," Rebecca begged him. "I was just about to fall asleep forreal."

He knew there was no way that she was really sleeping. The epidural couldn't have been that good.

"The storm's not bothering you?" Camron was scared, but he would never admit it to anyone other than Rebecca.

For as long as he could remember, he'd always been afraid of thunderstorms. Maybe it was the roaring of the thundering that reminded him of his hot-headed felon of a father; maybe it was the seemingly never-ending rain that brought back memories of his emotionally unstable drunk of a mother. Storms always felt so chaotic to him; much like his own life, there was always too much going on at one time and he could almost never keep up.

A loud boom of thunder had Camron jumping in fear. Cursing under his breath, he tightly closed his eyes while he willed the storm away with a few words from memory; the one good thing his father ever taught him, and it was a silly nursery rhyme.

"C'mere, baby. I got you," Rebecca's voice, as soft as it was, cut through the noise of the storm and brought comfort to Camron.

He didn't need to be told twice. Standing up from the cardboard-like cot, he walked the few feet to the hospital bed as she patted the small area of mattress that was left. Like instinct, he climbed into the bed and squeezed himself into the barely-there space while being cautious of her belly. Burying his face into her bosom, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders while he placed a hand on her large baby-bump. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, even though it couldn't have been for more than a few minutes.

"Cam," Rebecca gasped out faintly just as Camron had started to Camm down a bit-- sleep was calling out to him and it was getting tough to dismiss it.

"Hm," he grunted, not bothering to move from where he was nestled into her warm body.

"I think my water just broke."

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5:57 A.M.

Words couldn't begin to describe what Camron was feeling in the moments that followed.

It was utter chaos; nurses running around doing God knows what while they waited for their doctor to come in and then nearly four hours of screaming and pushing and cursing aimed towards Camron. It was four hours of panic and confusion; four hours of lightheadedness every time a nurse encouraged Camron to look down as his daughter's head squeezed out of Rebecca.