I mean it. If they won't give me drugs, get a baseball bat and hit me. This breathing is bullsh—aagh!" Kate felt the pain twist through her insides and tear her apart.Beside her Johnny was saying "Come on . . . ha ha ha . . . you can do it. Breathe ha . . . ha . . . like this. Remember our class? Focus. Visualize. D'you want that statue we—"She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him close. "So help me God, if you mention breathing again I'm going to take you down. I want drugs—"And it was back, wrenching, cutting, twisting through her until she cried out. For the first six hours she'd been pretty good. She'd focused and breathed and kissed her husband when he leaned down to her and thanked him when he pressed a cool wet rag to her forehead. In the second six hours she lost her natural sense of optimism. The relentless, gnawing pain was like some horrible creature biting away at her, leaving less and less.By hour seventeen she was a flat-out, cast-iron bitch. Even the nurse came and went like Speed Racer."Come on, baby, breathe.
