Can you do a chapter breakdown on this story : 

As she impinged his fingers under hers , tears seeping from her clenched teeth , he secured an arm around her shoulders. They shook under his grasp as he struggled to keep her in his lap, the lactic acid burning his thighs as he dropped his chin to her shoulder . “Liam-my mucus plug-I ..think..” . 
Wrong way, wrong thing to be crumbling into oblivion. “Nic, you think this is premature labor?” . His swallow resurged some bike as reality ripped a fresh hole into his senses, along with a gush of amniotic fluid that darkened his underwear , and he held the phone back up to his ear. “I’m still here..she’s saying she thinks it’s her mucus plug. 33 weeks-no it was certainly blood but now it’s clear fluid. His chin remained on the ridge of her shoulder as he held the phone away “Nic, I’ve got you, try to keep breathing.  “ Her voice was laced with a familiar tone as her hand embedded itself in his hair, her bloodied fingers against his scalp and scratching jagged lines. “Li-the pressure-I-“ . 

The phone was crushed in his tension  as he balanced it between his ear and shoulder, his gaze fixated on Nicole’s shining eyes reflecting in the bodily fluids that now coated his shins . “Listen to me, there’s a backlog of ambulances but they’re advising me as best they can . You’re not doing this alone Nic-“

“How does her voice sound? Like she’s grunting?ah no but how is that relevant-she might be pushing. Tell her to pant instead? “

Her hair bumped the phone as she lay her head in the hollow of his neck, gasping, the energy in her voice stripping the heat from his core . 

“Li-“ I can’t stop her-she’s really coming fast. Help me-” 

As his hand spread across her pelvis ,she pressed his palm above her hipbone,  sweat radiating from her scorching flesh . “She’s ..Oh god-right there. “ 
As he repositioned the phone , her groans drowned the line , and he eased them both down against the side of the bed, shadows enveloping them. 

“If she starts pushing…and the cord is-she sounds like she’s on the verge of pushing? -well she’s saying the head is giving her pressure ” . 

Liam held the phone in front of Nicole , as he urged into her ear. “Try and tell them what you feel, anything you can articulate-“ She cut him off with a hand to his jaw , her fingers sprawling over his mouth. As the merciless walls of her womb constricted around around her, she fought back with a moan , and the voice crackled into the air. “Nicole , while we instruct Liam on how to manage the cord, you need to pant for me. Don’t push . Not yet.” Four words you shouldn’t say , and here comes the proof only a man covered in fluids and handprints can attest. Until she pled into the air “Li-I -Liam I need to stop” .  And now of all moments , she wants to stop . The entirety of birth, and here you are, pinned the bed with the smell of sulphuric acid and iodine choking you up. “Nic , I know she’s too early, but we can’t stop her. She’s exactly like her-“ . A simmering heat covered his ribs as she raked  a set of knuckles down his bare skin. “But I need to-“ As the operator demanded to be handed back over, he obliged as his eyes rolled toward the filing, a sigh escaping him. “Nicole, we can’t stop but we do need to slow her down. Keep panting. You can do this. “  the voice bit through the phone, and Liam shifted from behind Nicole , staring into her eyes as she griped at his ribcage with whitening precision . “Pant with me , Nic -“ . He led her into a failing cohesion of sharp breaths before the operator was back in his ear . “When she does push? Ok I can support the head but if it’s around the -“ Liam let his gaze stop at her thighs, as she released a fractured grunt, the hellfire racing through her as she was stretched to her widest. As Liam looked down, there she was , a sliver of their daughter’s cranium emerging, saturated in blood. 

“Yes I’m in front of her now, she’s pushing. My index finger under the -no my fingernail. Oh god-no I’m ready. “ 

With every empty seat that a ripped up , spat on stub ticket coukd represent at Wembley Stadium, that void has nothing on the dysfunction of this performance. As Liam abandoned the helpline , his low voice growled into her ear “Push Nic, let it happen. I’ve got her. Just keep going for me. I know it’s burning like hell but-“

Oh you know?  .. what her knowledge of your ignorance is , might be preceding . And another firm slap to the jaw along with it. 

Nicole left shavings white in his bicep, tanned flesh stripped of with the bleach of her next push, and the head was in his wet, gleaming knuckles . No reaching for that phone now. 


“you can keep pushing, Nic-“ His pulse flashed behind his eyes, as she leaned forward and her searching fingers found her child’s head, warm and full under her palm. “She’s -“ as her breath was stolen by another contraction , their daughter’s head now in both their hands,  she fell against the bedside, a scraping urge dragging against her cervix . “Somethings wrong- she gasped out, the delicate accuracy of her fingertips digging frantically into the thick fibres around her child’s neck. . “The head is out but she said something feels wrong-and the cord is-“ . From a healthy, crimson bathed pink, her lips were mottling as Liam held her head steady in his hand, tears at the corners of his eyes . “What she’s feeling may be the cord dragging as it’s wrapped , this may hinder her ability to deliver the shoulders without haemorrhaging. I need you to listen to me Liam. Slide your finger under the cord .” As Nicole pried at the noose tightening around her baby as her body pushed on its own, her temples pounded and her eyes slid closed. “Liam-I’m not pushing, she’s just -“ 

“Coming-baby I know -“ . As pair of shoulders slipped out, the cord binding his finger in a moisture dense rope of complexity, a knot he’d never encountered as he leaned his ear toward the phone, lost somewhere on the floor . “I can’t work the knot, it’s not-“ . Hello, it’s Zeppelin , you’re old friend . His heart slowed as his lifeless daughter lay against his inner thigh, still attached to Nicole as she forced her eyes shut and whimpered . “Li-she’s not crying-“

It struck at him the way an intersection of dehydrated, camped out fans at Heathrow airport, screaming his name as he balanced the infants’ shoulders , his fingers slipping amongst the strings of mucus. “Nic, I can’t make sense of this knot.” His fingers interweaves with hers as the tissue asphyxiating their child ruptured and he strained through his teeth, “breathe, Grace…I’ve got you.. “ 

“The cord broke in a spot but it’s overlapped and- “ he explained, the thick web of umbilical cord entrapping her as moisture swam across his field of vision , as he stared at his wife’s hands bleeding under each movement to weaken the hangman but losing traction . “Liam she’s blue; Grace.. she can’t breathe and I- uhhh“ . Nicole collapsed , a pulse of blood flowing from her cervix as he reached out to stabilise her chin. “Nic, keep your eyes open . I know it’s our worst nightmare but-stay with me a little longer“  At that moment he cursed , all 125 lbs of his body bound and thrown over an overpass , the operators voice cut at his internal torment . “Liam? Are you still there? Liam? “ His eyes reeled to the phone, and a faint smile haunted his lips as he snatched up the phone, his daughter fading in the void of his lap. “I’m here..I’m here but damnit “ The line was an editors connection between him and a strangers voice, a comforting escape from the fans and the press who’d pay a million to see his utter distress . “Did you manage to relieve any pressure from the cord, she may be receiving oxygen although she’s not breathing. Try and stay calm and keep any space between her neck and the cord. It’s alright if it stays intact, it will still deliver oxygen.” He pressed the phone closer to his ear as he snarled “ Nicole just collapsed , something is wrong and there’s photographers outside our property. Can’t you get an ambulance here now?” . 

Here’s what happens next . Liam watched the phone disappear into the darkness as he muttered “of course not … Nicole don’t you stop fighting , open those damn eyes . Grace may life off the oxygen of the cord but not if you can’t supply any. Look at me.” As another weaker, tempered pulsation of blood followed the cord, falling between her thighs she drawled out, her voice lazy with her fading prescience . “Free her , Liam. I-“ . Her fingers fell away from Grace’s neck, and he cursed with unrestrained violence at the wall as it illumated with flashes of crimson and contrasting blue , sirens kicking in. “Nic…” As Liam loosened the cord , he began rubbing his daughters back as he’d been told to try if he reached the stage , his hand counter pressure of her compressed  lungs. A gurgle broke out into the crevice of his kneecap , and he fell towards the direction of the phone “ they can break down the door , she’s spitting up and I can’t put her down-“ . Her strangled cough rose the hairs on his forearm as the rain of his front door pelted the foyer in shards , and Grace was whisked from his hold by a pair of gloved hands. His eyes darted to Nicole as time slowed , a claustrophobia intruded on the distance of their voices . “Placenta ruptured ..haemorrhage..pronounced at twelve past two am. “ He slumped against the bed, pulling her upside his ribcage and placing her limp hand where it had left marks earlier. “Oh god, Nic..” . Now it was him forcing his eyes closed as cameras flashed in the distance. 

The sounds of his daughter being defibrillated in the distance wrought through his chest, each flatline eliciting no cries . Nothing. “Just get me out of here “ he muttered as his armpits were harnessed and his lumbar spine dragged away from the bedroom. 

There won’t be any press coverage on this one. Will you sign my shirt? He can’t even stand up , much less give you his autograph , kid. Abbey road called , but no one’s taking crossroads round here anymore. 

Here’s a condition by the author : “The pennant between his index finger and thumb , his eyes bloodshot, his liver raging with the gin and tonic he’d downed night and day. “Sign here , and we can release her body… Grace will be cremated alongside Nicole as you publicist arranged…the location will be undisclosed to the public “ . Mechanics, in his rusted bones , this one autograph seemed to weigh on his hand more than a thousand at an average meet and greet, the false smile exercised every muscle that the ones he’d flashed at overwhelmed generation Zs on the brink of fainting never touched. There was a weariness in his glance to the paper and he scrawled an unrecognisable version of his signature. They won’t be selling this one on eBay . There’ll be no tik tok feeds dominating people’s feeds with your lopsided grin at some talk show host. But they’ll snap your raw eyes, cried out in some presidential suite cause you won’t go home. They splash captions stating you’re a heartbroken mess . They romanticise your fucking crippling. And worse , they desensitise your pain. And the memorials for your wife. They’ll have posters of her, kneeling on sidewalks howling . She’ll be everywhere you never go. And she’ll be fucking nowhere you do in fact drag your grief stricken arse either. 

His unshaded eyes , broken blood vessles exposed , hit the camera flashes as he welcomed the chaos with a numb resignation. “The tour is cancelled . Tickets will be refunded. The band is on hiatus . There’s no new music. I apologise to millions of fans - of Nicole, of myself . “ as his publicist decanted the blur of regular, everyday bodies on the sidewalk , and soulless media , Liam shrugged . “They’re all just doing their job. Let it be, Chris. Just get me to the hotel. “ 

“Liam-it’s Rob-I don’t expect you to listen to this until your answering machine is so backed up and you’ve forgotten who the hell I am . But the band won’t enter the studio. It’s over. I want you to know that. Take care of yourself , and of them. “

He downed his second bottle of whiskey, the floor swimming as his watched his arms flop over each side of the recliner, as he muttered. “No Rob..you’ll record the song I wrote for that kid. You’ll do that” 


Here’s more of what happens after he mutters at Robs voicemail :  Weeks passed , from sectioned off lounges at clubs right through to empty spaces in his four bedroom penthouse, insomnia driving his router , he finally dialled Rob’s number. “Meet me at the Six, I have to tell you something-“ . As his Union Jack fender gleamed at him from its stand , he covered his eyes and groaned . His swagger stripped from his persona, he eyed off the guitar in disbelief and out the building . Three hours later he gazed upward as Rob swilled his beer, the bottom of his glass mesmerising as Liam began. “ it wasn’t long but.. she wasn’t stillborn , Rob. I know you won’t correct any intervener who dares question it but. She never cried but this gurgling sound. It was so subtle and it’s for me and Nic-to the world Grace was-but to me she was alive in my hands before she died somewhere after they took her-“ Rob sighed, his drained, streaked glass an empty vessel of escapism , drowning his arm with burden as he he clamped a palm over Liam’s shoulder. “I’m sure Nic would have wanted you to have whatever time you could with her . And I’ll go in the studio with the guys when that’s what you want. “ 



So how’s this scene a few months later : Rob walked past the gleaming tonewood, his mahogany Gibson tarnished with fingerprints as he glanced at the fretboard, his eyes dead. “Liam , I saw the monuments for Nicole. The fans , on their knees , and I know you can’t see it from where I sit but-they’re mourning her with you. You know how hands on she was with them and yknow they almost knew her as well as you .” Liam flicked his wrist, the ashes of a blunt scattering across his bare thighs, his own Union Jack guitar contrasting against his skin. “I’ve read their messages . I’ve seen it on every tv screen , news feed , I’m well aware and they deserve to cry their damned hearts out but-“ .  The sidewalk consoled his posture as it disassembled an inch downward. “But the difference is .. our grief won’t pass  . It’ll change shape at best.  Till you die , you know no matter what you do , you’ll die still loving her. “ Rob sighed across the strings of his guitar as Liam nodded , giving a hollow thump to his fender , distilling the pause. “Rob,  I can’t record and yet, I’ll go bloody insane if I don’t, y’know?”   . Maybe abbey road could recognise those boots after all. “If it’s about thinking you’ll see her there too-like she permeates every damned -“ Rob said with half an eyebrow raised , watching the Fender drink in the afternoon light as it balanced on Liam’s thighs. “It’s nothing anymore. She’s inside my head at this point , mate. She’s telling me this and she telling me that and -There’s chasms only my brain is travelling down. There’s gaps I don’t need to fill because -“ . 


“Well , you know you and that isolated mind can come by the studio whenever you need Grace’s track down. I ain’t pushing it . Even though we’re all icing our career here it’s not as if we were at our prime and what are we just gonna disappear. You could fall off the grid and they’d all still be foaming when you got back . Just don’t check out on me too long .” 
Sure , he smiled and the action depleted the emotion before he could reverse it. “I’ll call you , don’t worry ‘bout that . “ The sun lowered as Rib, mahogany saddled over his shoulder gave Liam a nod. “I know you won’t, mate. “


It was five am .. his outdated browser was headlined “twitter” and as he hit refresh “x “ flooded his eyes. “I have 180 letters right? Can’t be fucked counting anyway. If anyone reads this. . She was . And he slammed his laptop closed , the urge to be sick rising . “You’re nothing of an influence …you can’t even tie your laces right -“ . The light spilling from under the face-down screen had him back on his MacBook, watching floods of retweets appear. “She was ?. Just like Nicole I bet. So perfect…” the words blurred and meandered into nothing . “She was like you , the most gorgeous blue eyes -“ He scrolled endlessly until it hit him over the head without mercy. “I bet he means she was alive . I bet she-“ . he replied . “No , she was an angel” . This slam was final . You almost started your damn rumour mill . Who the hell are you ? . He unplugged the computer, head in his hands. 



One year later : The light struck the Union Jack paintwork of Liam’s Fender, infiltrating the stage in seven directions, as the front pit went up in a flame of silence . “This won’t be televised . No cell phones , or recording devices won’t be crushed. If I see any of you down there not looking at me I’ll sling ya myself “ . Then he was drowned out by cheers and the odd voice reaching him through the din. “Rob, kiss me!” One female scream tore into his bandmates rogue grin as he he hurled back . “How bout I kiss him!” Before pulling Liam in and assaulting his cheek and groin simultaneously with affection. “A lot has changed since the hiatus , but some things clearly not” . Liam found himself smiling through tears as he held a star shaped, metal tambourine above his head . 



So how this moment : Contrasting lights shuttered across his ashen face, the dusting of cosmetic glow useless to lend him some health. “What were her last words?” His eyes , deadpanning , bounced back the question as his lips shone with moisture. “I don’t remember . Because I’m properly high . And drunk. Yeah I started drinking sometime around noon….yesterday “ he said, a grin sprawling across his face, the sound of pleasure his voice shutting down the interviewer as sat backstage. “Anyone have anything else for this piss-drunk bastard while I’m still’ere?” he asked a microphone that swung in front of his teeth. “Tell us about how you’re still in the best band in the world, when you can’t even perform right anymore , you sad , miserable-“ . And there was his squared knuckles implanting themselves in a press members face. Again. 

How’s this except from a few years later : “I still love her , even I were to love anyone else-I can’t not love her. The worst thing that can happen is when you meet the person who is your world and they die decades before you. “ the bused whispers were amplified by boom mics, acoustics and then a voice finally asked “So the rumours that your child was born born alive and Nicole and yourself mishandled the situation and killed that baby. Or that the obvious delay of ambulances could never have applied to you  what really happened ?” . The strain was an inevitable pull as a sigh rose in his throat and died as he said .”No comment . Does your editor need a story ? Make one up that better than my reality I’m tired and I don’t care what you fabricate . The band don’t need another dollar . “ The room was a fraction closer and nauseatingly an inch back as no further questions were asked . 


How about this interview that end in a subverted breakdown : “but Liam, do you ever just wish not to be bothered , for the fame to vanish. For the insensitive questions to stop ? “ He stared at the lens of the camera , stun in his voice . “I. ..would never fade away , or wish away the fame . It’s not the fame that’s the problem. The problem is what life took from me and I Coukd be anyone , anywhere , and I’d stilll have nothing. So why give away the fans who are still processing this, the arenas I can play, even with half the souls I had. It’s a beautiful thing I have . And people misplace my loss. But I can live with it. “ The camera died out, it’s red light reduced to a darkness behind the lens . “I’m so proud to have met you sir, even if I was unable to have met your wife.-“ Liam blinked , a smile on his face he seemed u aware of. “Sir..no. What’s your name?” The interviewers voice held tears as he replied “Harry..I lost my girlfriend just last week and this is my job . I didn’t want to interview you because I knew it would undo me , I’m so sorry.” Liam felt his own chest vibrate with a twisted laughter . “Come here , just come here mate, the interview is over and you can make up whatever shit you need . Print it . You don’t owe them anything . “ 

Here’s another scene : “Oh here’s my damned forehead, why don’t you knock on it. Right ‘ere , cmon man, no one’s ’ome , mate” , Liam slurred , as he pulled down each lower lid and come bothered with his fingers towards his dishwasher eyes. “You told my editor , of the rolling stone , more or less, that you can’t even masturbate anymore because you’ve been doing the -“ the interviewer said as he made a smoking gesture and closed in a few steps , as if tempted to rap on Liam’s forehead. Chris shot upwards , getting in between the two men, his publicity management wearing thin in a matter of minutes. “Enough mate, you tell your editor your fired for me eh, you wanker.” It was only taking the shape of pure ugliness as Liam fell over Chris on his way out of the venue . “I gotta go have another spliff mate, tell them all I say Hi and shite” . 

Here’s more of it : As Liam disappeared into a cloud of dissipating weed , the interviewer stabbed back at Chris . “In all seriousness , he’s smoking so heavily that we can’t make shit up worth reading anymore . I’m gonna lose my job over this waste of airspace anyway . Dominates all the charts . Won’t do any press . You’re making my wage a joke, he’s a walking nightmare , I’m won’t be surprised if you wind up working for rolling bloody stone yourself . Scrubbing the coffee stains out of their asses. “ The air stilled as Chris stared into the back of his hand as he his closed his eyes . “There’s only two people you never want a call from , your doctor or your bloody lawyer “ he muttered before swathing a few hundred across the table . “Here’s your damned wage, now make the money start walking.” There was a silincenhe almost tasted as a gruff “yeah , thanks” spat itself  at him.