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Chapter 12
The walls of the hospital smelled of antiseptic and quiet dread. Gwen’s tiny hand was warm in mine, her fingers curling instinctively, as though afraid that if she let go, she might vanish again into the shadows that once swallowed her.
I had brought her here not because she was sick, but because I needed the reassurance. After everything–the kidnapping, the sleepless nights, the sound of her screams echoing in my dreams–I couldn’t ignore the fear gnawing at me. She was only a child, too fragile, too precious, and I couldn’t shake the paranoia that something still lingered inside her.
“Ms. Emerald?” the pediatrician smiled gently, motioning for us to come inside the exam room. Gwen froze.
Her small body stiffened, her grip on my fingers tightening until my knuckles whitened. “Mama… no,” she whispered, shaking her head.
I crouched down, meeting her watery eyes. “It’s alright, baby. Just a check–up. Nothing scary.”
But Gwen pressed her face against my shoulder, clinging to me. The sight of the doctor’s white coat seemed to terrify her, perhaps reminding her of the masked strangers who had once held her captive. Every instrument in the room–the stethoscope, the thermometer- looked like threats in her eyes.
When the doctor approached, Gwen let out a small cry. “No needles! Please, Mama, no
needles!”
My chest ached as I gathered her into my arms, rocking her gently. “Shh, no needles, I promise. They just want to make sure you’re healthy.. No one’s going to hurt you.”
The pediatrician softened his voice, crouching to her level. “You’re safe here, Gwen. I want to listen to your heart. Can I do that?”
She peeked at him through wet lashes, trembling.
I just
I kissed her temple, whispering, “Just like when I hold you to sleep, baby. It’s the same.”
Slowly, hesitantly, she allowed him to place the stethoscope against her chest, though her hand never released mine.
“Perfectly healthy,” the doctor reassured after a few minutes. “Her vitals are normal, no lasting effects from what she went through. But… I do recommend therapy. For both of you.”
I nodded, my throat tightening. Therapy. The word felt heavy, but necessary. I had scars no one could see–memories that bled into nightmares. And Gwen… she carried more than I wanted her to.
After the hospital, Gwen tugged at my sleeve, her voice soft but insistent. “Mama… can we go play?”
Her wide eyes made it impossible to say no. I wanted her to feel joy again, to remember
what childhood should be. So I took her to the amusement park.
Chapter 12
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what childhood should be. So I took her to the amusement park.
The air buzzed with laughter, the clatter of rides, and the sweetness of cotton candy drifting in the breeze. For a while, I allowed myself to breathe.
Gwen ran ahead, her little legs carrying her to a carousel. She squealed, waving at me from the painted horse as though the world were hers again.
I smiled, but beneath it, anxiety coiled tight. Too many people. Too many shadows. Every time Gwen disappeared behind the crowd, my chest seized. I called her name, but she didn’t listen, too caught up in the thrill of freedom.
“Gwen, stop!” My voice came sharper than I intended, cutting through the laughter around us. People turned, and Gwen froze, her eyes wide. Tears welled up, and she began to cry.
My heart broke instantly. I crouched down, pulling her into my arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to shout. I was just… scared. I thought I lost you again. And I can’t–I can’t lose you.” My voice cracked against her hair as I kissed her forehead.
She sniffled, her little arms tightening around my neck. “Mama… why are you always scared?”
How could I explain? How could I tell her that the world had already taken too much from me? That I lived every day with ghosts of broken promises?
Before I could answer, she asked something that stopped my breath. “Mama… where’s Daddy? Why did Daddy leave us?”
My body stiffened. I stroked her hair, stalling. “Your daddy…” My voice wavered. “He… he made choices that hurt us. That hurt you. And I had to protect you, Gwen.”
Her lips trembled. “So Daddy doesn’t love me?”
The question tore through me like a knife. I shook my head quickly, tears threatening. “No, no, baby. He loved you. He loves you still, I’m sure. But sometimes… love isn’t enough to make someone stay.”
She didn’t understand. How could she? She pulled back from me, her eyes shimmering with confusion and pain. “I don’t want another daddy. I want mine!” she cried, her little feet stomping before she turned and bolted into the crowd.
Panic ripped through me. “Gwen!” My legs moved before thought, weaving through strangers, my voice breaking as I screamed her name. Faces blurred, laughter warped into echoes of nightmares.
And then–my worst fear. She was gone from sight. My chest constricted, the world tilting, every muscle in my body trembling as dread clawed at me. “Gwen!”
A hand pulled her back from the chaos.
I spun around, and my heart lurched.
Martin stood there, Gwen safe in his arms. She clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder, while he looked at me with that calm, steady gaze that had unnerved me from the
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I stumbled toward them, my knees nearly giving way in relief. “Thank God… Gwen.” I reached out, brushing her hair back, my lips pressing against her damp cheek.
Martin shifted her weight easily, his voice low but firm. “You can’t do this alone, Emerald. Not with everything you’ve been through. Not with her pain. Let me help you with her.”
I blinked, still trembling, unsure how to respond. “Martin…”
He met my eyes, unwavering. “I know she misses her father. I can’t change that. But if I’m going to be in your life, I need her to see me as more than just… someone on the sidelines.” He paused, his tone softening. “I need her to accept me as Daddy.”
Gwen sniffled, peeking up at him with tearful eyes. “You… want to be my daddy?”
He smiled gently, brushing her cheek. “Only if you’ll let me, princess.”
My throat tightened as I watched them–Gwen’s small frame pressed against him, his arms holding her with such care. For the first time in so long, I felt the smallest flicker of something I thought I’d lost. Hope.
I wiped my tears and whispered, “Maybe… maybe that’s what we need. A new beginning.”
