“You don’t know what he is, Emily! You don’t know what your precious little boy is!”
Then the doors swung shut, and she was gone
I turned back to Noah. My legs almost gave way, but I forced myself to stand.
“Noah, baby,” I whispered. “Daddy was there?”
His face twisted, not from pain this time.
From fear.
“Dark,” he murmured. “He said be quiet.”
The pediatric surgeon touched my arm gently.
“Mrs. Carter, we need to let him rest. His body is under severe stress.”
I nodded, but I could not let go of his hand.
Noah’s fingers were so small in mine. Too warm and too fragile.
I bent down and kissed the bandage near his wrist.
“I’m here,” I whispered. “Mommy’s here. Nobody is going to take you again.”
His eyes drifted shut.
But just before sleep pulled him under, he whispered one more thing.
