The snow fell heavily, requiring my wipers to work overtime to maintain visibility. It was nearly 6 PM on a Friday; I had closed the shop at 5 PM and now needed to drive home. I had already cleaned the car twice, but the snowfall was so intense that even the road-clearing machines couldn't keep the roads clear. Driving was challenging due to the slippery conditions, even with my heavy-duty tires, forcing me to drive slowly.
The bleak streetlights offered some illumination, but the city, in an effort to conserve energy, only kept them on near the city center, not on all roads. This meant I would be driving in near-total darkness for much of the way home. I knew the last half-mile might be particularly difficult unless the plows had cleared our road. The snow continued to fall relentlessly.
I was angry, unsurprisingly. Damon had taken both Thursday and Friday off, but I had to go to the shop. He hadn't even discussed financial matters with Charles. Not a single Salvatore had been present, yet they were all fawning over Mariella's ultrasound images – of her three daughters, who were singletons, not triplets. She seemed slightly disappointed, but she was still surrounded by the Salvatores, and I had witnessed their weakness firsthand, regardless of what Damon claimed.
"Pussyslaves," I muttered under my breath, "every goddamn one of them."
Cursing like a sailor in a storm, I navigated the treacherous roads.
"Fucking hell, and it's hot balls of fire," I exclaimed. "I will make this damn trip home, and, oh yeah, I can't hardly fucking wait to shovel my way in while pussy and her slaves are having a fun time inside. Oh fucking cuckoos hairy asshole and balls!"
I was feeling rather creative with my language. I also knew, having already checked, that filing my tax return would be a nightmare. I'd have to write everything down, calculate sums, multiply by this and that, and then add them all up at the end. Of course, it was obvious that "Miss Pussy" wouldn't do it herself. I bet she'd gotten Charles or Damon to handle it for her.
My feelings towards Mariella hadn't improved; her behavior offered no reason for them to. Tomorrow marked the beginning of my tenth week of pregnancy, and while exciting, my body was subtly but noticeably changing each week. The hormones kept me in a constant state of irritation, and my mind was racing with thoughts.
I'd likely need to file two separate tax returns: Damon would probably file jointly with Mariella, and the Salvatores would likely do the same with the girls. I had my business taxes and my personal ones to consider, and I wasn't sure whether to file with Charles, Adam, or even Wulfe, though it would be new to him and potentially frustrating.
It was incredibly irritating to meticulously account for every cent in my business, keeping track of expenses – transport, phone calls, and packaging needed to be itemized separately. Each bill payment required a detailed entry in my accounting system, specifying each item.
Then came the deductions – what could I deduct, and how? I had to itemize every piece of cake or coffee cup sold, considering the cost of materials, energy, and even my own time, splitting everything into what felt like atoms. It only added to my irritation. And now, there was the damn snow.
I needed to go to the gym to release some pressure. My doctor had said I could continue rigorous workouts for up to six months, if I felt up to it; the babies would be safe, and exercise would keep me in good shape. I had at least twenty appointments scheduled so she could monitor things and let me know if I was overdoing it.
My appointments were every other week, and my doctor wasn't sure how long my pregnancy would last. Human pregnancies with five babies were around thirty weeks, but as a supernatural being, I could potentially carry them longer if everything went well. However, my history of fast-onset labors with added complications made her a bit wary. I hadn't told Wulfe or Charles everything, not wanting to worry them, but my doctor advised I consider maternity leave sooner than usual and take it easy.
Mariella's appointment had revealed she was also experiencing a high-risk pregnancy. Her doctor, an older man, had advised her to maintain an ideal weight, exercise regularly, and avoid stress, given her history of high blood pressure and preeclampsia. Monitoring her condition closely was crucial. Consequently, she and Damon had immediately opted for a cesarean section, as cost was not a concern due to Damon's financial stability. This decision was even more straightforward because it involved Mariella's well-being.
If my pregnancy were to be shortened, perhaps to 30 weeks, it would mean that tomorrow would mark the end of my first trimester, although not officially. A normal pregnancy typically lasts 36 weeks or longer, with each trimester spanning approximately 12 weeks. However, my situation remained uncertain.
This thought prompted me to mentally calculate the implications of a problematic pregnancy. I would need to begin maternity leave in week 25, around the end of March. The financial aspects also weighed heavily on my mind. My entire summer would be affected unless the girls could manage the shop, but they would need to be paid. Furthermore, I was unsure of the shop's financial performance and the potential cost of the birth, considering insurance coverage limitations, as I hadn't yet made a full year's worth of payments. These problems seemed to multiply, and time was running out.
As I was driving, the road was slippery, and there were no lights in this part of the road. Suddenly, something ran into the road, forcing me to make a sharp turn and slam on the brakes. This caused my car to fishtail, and it soon began to spin out of control. Regaining control was difficult due to the momentum, and the car swerved off the road onto a patch of ice. The car jerked sharply to the left, causing the front end to swing to the other side, directly into a light pole.
The impact on my side of the car was immense. The door caved in, throwing me sideways against my seatbelt as far as it would allow. The side of the car was crushed inward, trapping me as the dented door pressed down. The car had almost wrapped itself around the light pole. I was stunned by the impact, and the deployed airbags struck my face. I blacked out for a while.
I woke to the sound of someone calling my name. As I forced my blood-crusted eyes open, I saw one of the young girls who frequented my shop.
She said, "I've called for help. Stay calm. This looks nasty."
I mumbled, "I'm fine. No need to fuss over me," but I heard sirens in the distance. "Oh great," I thought.
Surely my healing would take care of anything. I was trapped. I tried to reach the seatbelt release, but it was stuck and bent as I leaned over it. My side throbbed where the door had taken a hit. The airbag had deployed, hitting me hard and low.
"Surely my babies would be fine." I muttered in my mind.
I wiped the worst of the blood from my eyes, but a nasty, deep gash in my scalp kept pouring. My healing was either taking a break or being busy with something else. Paramedics and firefighters flooded the scene. My car was totaled; that much I knew. Someone put a thick dressing on my head, securing it with gauze, while firemen started to peel open my car.
My bag was on the floor of the passenger seat, but I couldn't reach it. They lifted me out of the car wearing a neck brace. One of the paramedics, Harry, was calling the hospital for my doctor to come and check on my babies.
As they loaded me into the ambulance, another paramedic said, "Don't worry, we'll notify your pack as soon as we get to the hospital. Everything will be fine. Your blood pressure is quite low; we're giving you fluids and keeping an eye on things."
I said, "My healing will surely kick in; I'm fine."
He replied, "You have a dislocated hip, a possible splenic rupture, a nasty gash on your head, and several cracked ribs. You're in shock, so you won't feel the pain yet, but it will hit you."
I smiled and said, "I usually keep the pain away with my abilities, so I kind of feel it, but it doesn't bother me."
He rolled his eyes, and the ambulance drove on. I kept my rage simmering, so the aches and pains didn't bother me that much, and the babies would be fine. I didn't let it out fully, though, so as not to scare the paramedics.
Internally rolling my eyes, I knew I might face some criticism from the pack, fussing over my condition. Wulfe would likely stick to me, and I wasn't sure when they'd let me go. All I needed was Charles, some of his blood to surely boost my healing, eliminating the need for all the fuss.
However, I wasn't certain if my… well; I hated to admit it, frail state was a factor, meaning no more superhero-level healing. No more Miss High and Mighty, who could withstand any blow. Was this a lesson for me, too—to be a little more careful, maybe develop a sense of self-preservation? God, I hoped not; it would complicate my life, having to worry about getting hurt.
The ambulance was an ambulance, with shelves, boxes, and a seat where the paramedic sat beside me, monitoring my vitals and reading my history on the computer, checking for anything noteworthy. He already knew I'd had five babies; this was a small town, and my shop was new.
Many people had visited in the past weeks, and after my scan, the ambulance drove quickly toward Roseau and the medical center, where I would get my check-up. The interior smelled like a hospital, and a cannula was in my vein, dripping saline—just fluid, nothing special. I controlled my anxiety about having it in, and decided to be a good patient.
My leg was immobilized, having been lifted onto a damn vacuum bed that had molded around me, secured with straps. My head pounded, whether from the wound or lack of caffeine, I wasn't sure, but I held on.
We finally arrived at the medical center, and my gurney was pushed into a cubicle where a tired-looking attendant attended to me. I rolled my eyes, wondering if this had happened in the morning and I'd ended up as a patient of Damon's; I wasn't sure if that's where he worked, but it would be mortifying.
The doctor said, "Your obstetrician is on her way, but first, let's take a CT scan. I know you heal fast, but in pregnancy, it usually slows down as the baby takes your resources. Since you have five, this is for their safety, too. We can also get a picture of your injuries. So far, I haven't seen any need for surgery, but let's make sure, shall we?"
"I'll be fine," I said. "Someone should inform my pack."
The doctor assured me, "Don't worry, the nurses have already called Doctor Salvatore."
Great. This was Damon's workplace. An orderly arrived and began pushing my gurney toward the CT suite. We took the elevator and navigated several corridors. The ceiling lights, though not overly bright, provided sufficient illumination, perhaps an attempt to soften the harsh hospital environment.
I was parked near the CT suite, and the orderly told me, "They'll come get you when they're ready. No worries."
I nodded, and at the same time, I was already thinking about getting home and having a nice weekend, maybe being a little sore but nothing too bad. I was suspecting Charles or Adam might come to fetch me, or at least call. Mr. Salvatore, I figured, wouldn't bother; he'd probably just scold me for being careless on the road.
My car was totaled, and I wasn't sure how much insurance would cover or if there would be points on my license. For the time being, someone would likely have to drive me to and from work, despite the several cars we have available.
My life often felt like a colossal mess, or so it seemed. Finally, I was wheeled into the CT suite, lifted onto the machine, and the contrast dye was hooked up to my IV. The scan began shortly after. The procedure took less than ten minutes. The contrast agent again created a feeling of warmth inside me, which wasn't too unpleasant. I was usually cold when my temperature was high; a normal room temperature would feel cool to me. I figured it was some kind of shock response.
I was soon moved back into an ER cubicle, and a nurse brought extra blankets, explaining that the doctor would be in shortly after reviewing my scans. I was already feeling more alert, even though I was still strapped down and under observation. My healing was progressing, albeit slowly, but it was working.
About ten minutes later, the doctor entered, removed my collar, and released the restraints. "There are no breaks in your neck or spine. Your hip is back in place, but it will be sore due to tendon stretching and strain. Furthermore, your pregnancy will cause your relaxin levels to rise, loosening your tendons and joints. Therefore, your hip may be sore for a week or more, despite your healing. You also have nasty bruises where the seatbelt pressed, and your splenic rupture is sealing, but you have a significant blood clot inside. I'd like to keep you under observation as your blood pressure is still very low, and you have three extra spleens."
He paused and continued, "Your obstetrician will be here soon to examine your babies, but I didn't see any injuries to your womb. I must admit, it took me a little while to get used to your unique anatomy. Your head laceration appears to be healing, but your hair is quite bloody. I can ask the nurse to try to wash off the worst of it, though it might sting."
I smiled and replied, "No need; I'll let it heal and shower at home."
The doctor nodded. The nurse then raised the headboard, allowing me to sit up a little. I, Mimi Salvatore, the goddamn alpha female, was in the ER because I had totaled my car, wrapping it around a light pole.
It had been a dark, slippery road, full of freshly fallen snow, and not many had driven there. My reflexes had caused this; a deer or young moose had run into the road. However, if I had been driving even slightly faster, the animal would have hit my car, with potentially worse consequences.
Perhaps this accident was meant to happen, or maybe it was just a random event. But I will see what comes out of this. At the very least, I knew I would hear about it next week at work, and if I went to church, the crones would be more than curious to see what shape I was in.
I was trying to calculate the number of insurance forms I'd need for car insurance and this trip, as well as what my insurance would cover. I have reserves, but I hated to use them so early, though sometimes there's no other choice.
Trying to find a better position, I grunted as my hip reminded me of its injury. My back was also sore; the impact had been a significant hit, and my body felt jolted by the seatbelt. A gym visit seemed impossible in the near future, at least until the aches subsided. I had sore spots here and there, but I had ways of dealing with them. All I had to do was convince my pack that I was fine.
This had been a tough situation, and now, while I was fairly sure my babies were okay, checking on them might be wise. Again, I was mentally crafting a suitable cover story, figuring out how to downplay the situation and calm everyone down. There were still quite a few problems to solve, so I hoped to get home and perhaps check my phone for messages. I could text Charles that I was fine and then take a cab or something to get home. Yeah, there was nothing to worry about.