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The Broken Soldier: Dreams Of A Broken Marine

This is the second book for The Broken Soldier. Please read The Broken Soldier: Secrets Of A Broken Marine first. Clayton Jackson, First Lieutenant in the Marine Corps is back from what was his final deployment. He left his final deployment on a high, leaving him with yet another injury. This time he is set to stay with Isabella, and bring their child into the world and raise it together. But Clayton gets restless and he desires to go back. But apart from that, Isabella and Clayton are concerned that the two people that they fear to most will come back and hurt them and their child. Can they let go of this fear? Will Isabella let Clayton follow his dreams again and let him go back and become the ultimate Marine, a Rayder?

Tatum_Whispers · Urban
Not enough ratings
110 Chs

Those Moments You React

I never expected that when you are expecting a child that everything you do or you say becomes tenfold. Before, you only had yourself to look after, but now you have the lives of two others that you need to carry like crystal in your hands. I can honestly say that I never felt so scared and so excited at the same time. So when moments as these come and knock your breath away, it seems that you exactly know what to do, without even a question, you react.

So it is with pure terror that I look at Isabella. Now she is being very vague, so I truly do no know what to expect. What is the meaning? What is she saying? All I know it is best not to question her and do that very thing, and react. Though for now, for a brief moment, I am not going to panic.

Well, at least not yet.

So I turn to her slowly, "What do you mean something is wrong, boo?"

"Something is wrong; something does not feel right?"

And as I watch her place her hand on her belly, that horror that I thought I did not need to have, it comes rushing like ice, sending shivers up my spine, rendering me completely helpless.

It only takes but one second for me to react; I have the car keys, I have her bag, and even the bag for the baby. Next, I have her by the hand; while she still wants to protest, I have her out the front door. In less than two minutes after she uttered those words, she is in the front seat of the car, and we are rushing off, my destination…the hospital, where that damn Doctor better be.

There are a million thoughts that run through this uneasy mind as I stare at her with a face that is paler than the white dress that she is wearing. There is a hint of fear hidden in her eyes that she is trying to keep strong. She is trying her best not to fall apart, and that I can see as her hand trembles while I am holding it tightly. I have no idea what to say to her.

Fuck. I don't even know what is wrong.

All that she is saying is that something is wrong. That is all that her voice mumbles as she tries to speak while I am asking her questions. And then she keeps on telling me to take her home. If this were not so goddamn scary, I would be getting frustrated. But this is not the time for being an asshole just because you cannot understand a word that comes from your wife's mouth.

So for what seems to be almost half an hour, yet it is only twenty minutes, we are rushing to bring the car to a standstill as we have reached the hospital entrance. As I bring the wheels to a screeching halt, I am immediately out of the car and next to her to help her out of her seat. With bags in the hand, I am taking her through the hospital doors towards the reception. After having a rather annoying fight with one of the ladies to send for a wheelchair and arrange for us to see the Doctor, we are finally moving down the hallway towards the rooms where the Doctor will be waiting for us.

Now, if I say that I have stopped breathing for the past half an hour, then I would truly not be lying. The terror that has gripped my heart and my body has rendered me completely helpless to the point that I should not be able to function. But the adrenaline that is pumping through my veins, and the fact that it is the baby, is the only reason that I am moving forward.

As we finally make our way to the rooms, still not having said a single word to each other, I turn to her and pull her deep into my arms, "Boo, you are going to be okay."

"But…" she tries to object once again. I only but pull her deeper into my arms, then we see the Doctor peek his head through the door, showing for us to come into the examination room.

There is not a lot being said; I only but look at the Doctor and try to find my own damn voice, "Doctor, Isabella said something is wrong."

And as the Doctor looks at Isabella, that is between laughing and crying; I know he is not getting a word from her.

But why the fuck the woman is laughing? That I don't know.

But ya…

I am left to try and explain, "She just said something is wrong."

The Doctor looks at me rather annoyed, "What exactly is wrong, Mr. Jackson."

Then I turn my head to Isabella, that has now completely burst out into tears. Well, asking her something right now is pretty useless. So after going through a whole list of twenty questions, then even twenty after that, he shows for Isabella to get dressed in that horrible gown which I still firmly believe they let you put on the wrong way around.

Now I have not been with her for one of these examinations, and it already looks fucking scary. As I look at the machine standing next to the bed that Isabella is lying on, my body just cringes. The better part of my judgment tells me not to ask any questions about what is about to happen. I might just faint again, then both Isabella and I will both be pretty useless.

And useless is me asking her, "Boo, are you okay?"

I watch as she can only shake her head at me; whatever has her spooked this way must be damn serious. I have never seen Isabella gone completely quiet, still between laughing and crying. I am going to write it off to being pure hormones.

So I only but squeeze her hand as she sees the fear of hell creep into my eyes, yet, "Boo, is it going to be fine, I promise."

Then after what seems to have taken the Doctor nearly ten minutes, he finally shows his face again. Why the fuck did she not pick a female Doctor? I do not sit quite comfortably with a man touching my wife, well, I know not quite yet, but in my book, she is.

So barely able to contain my horror, I take a seat next to this very wife and grab her hand as tight as I can.

The Doctor only smiles at me, which I am finding rather inappropriate, so he only but whispers to me softly, "Son, your wife is not giving birth yet. I am sure you can let go of her hand. Now let us check what the problem is."

Well, I am trying my best to be polite with this Doctor, and I am firmly coming to the decision to replace him after this visit.

I watch as her puffy little face turns completely red as she stares at the Doctor. He only but squeeze the very hand that he says I should not be squeezing; this man is now really starting to piss me off.

Ya, that is me, "Can we get this over with. I would like to know what is wrong with the baby?"

And I should not have said that, for Isabella has once again started crying.

But then, as if her tears are not a horror to me, this man, this Doctor, he is trying to open the gown so he can touch her.

"I am sorry, but that ain't happening. If you touch my wife, then I will fucking kill you."

"Mr. Jackson," the Doctor, with still somewhat of amusement, says, "How else am I going to examine your wife?"

"Through her clothes, like normal Doctors do."

Then he picks up that goddamn awful probe thing that I did not wish to comment about and sways it in front of my face. "And how am I going to use this then?"

Well, there is a completely new horror that creeps over my body as I see this…thing.

"If you stick that thing inside of her, then I am fucking ripping you apart. Now exam her like a normal doctor should."

I see as the Doctor's eyes grow wild with anger, and I know that I have just done something wrong?

"Mr. Jackson, I need to see your wife's naked belly to run this thing over it. Now, why would I even want to consider doing anything else with this for what it is truly intended?"

Without saying a word, I watch as he squirts some gel onto the center of her belly, then in slow circles, he starts to run that probe over and over. Then finally, on the little screen, there pops up a very blurry picture.

And as he goes on and on, I drop my head and squeeze the bridge of my nose so tight that I can almost snap it in half. Then there is a gentle touch of a hand on my shoulder.

"Mr. Jackson…"

But just then, my phone lights up…