REALLY, REALLY QUIET. As I walk through June’s apartment it seems the whole world has gone silent; like somehow, everyone knew we had lost the baby. There was blood—a whole lot of blood. I retrieved my cell phone, called 911, went back to June and found her unconscious. She lost so much blood she passed out, I was terrified she was going to die on me. The paramedics rushed her to the hospital, took her straight into the ER and left me alone in the waiting room, covered in blood. I didn’t know what to do, I felt at a complete loss. While I waited for any news about June, I made calls to Faith and June’s parents. By the time they arrived I was in a clean pair of scrubs one of the nurses gave me to change into. I dumped my other clothes in the trash; the thought of taking those home. . . . I just couldn’t. We all sat in that damn waiting area, for God knows how long, without any news. We were going stir crazy. My mind was on overdrive, trying to figure what went wrong, and if June and the baby were going to be okay?
