Amirah pov
Following the doctor through the endless, too-bright halls, every step felt like a race against something I couldn't see. My mind was scattered, my heart pounding a frantic, broken rhythm. All I could think was Lani, Lani, please hold on—
He led me into a sterile room. There, on the bed, surrounded by machines and tubes and the beeping of monitors, was my baby. My whole world. My beautiful girl—her face swaddled in bandages, her head encased in gauze, a breathing tube taped to her mouth; one tiny hand bandaged and pinned, purple with bruising, the other barely visible beneath more wrappings.
The sight undid me. How could this happen to her? My precious child—so small, so brave—now lying motionless, lost in drugs and pain, so far from me I felt like I was drowning, reaching for something that kept slipping further away.
I stumbled to the bed, tears cascading down my cheeks, biting my lip so hard it bled as I reached out to touch the soft, bandaged hand that used to wrap so tightly around my finger. I wanted my touch to give her comfort, to make her breathe easier, but as I pressed my trembling palm to her skin I saw all the dried blood, the pins jutting from her mangled little fingers. My throat closed up—I was choking on my own sobs, crying so hard my knees went weak. I spun and ran to the bathroom, locking myself inside, collapsing beside the sink as the retching took over.
I threw up until I was empty and then sobbed until I was hollow, gasping for air. All I could see was her bloodless lips, the machine helping her lungs do the work, her perfect face obscured by medical tape and tubes. The pins. The bruises. The blood. My mind replayed every image with cruel, vivid clarity. How could this happen to my baby?
Wiping my mouth, shaking all over, I forced myself out of the bathroom—back into that endless, sterile hell. I stared at my daughter, my hands shaking so badly I had to grip the bed rail to steady myself. My Lani, my treasure. I wanted to just crawl onto the bed and wrap her up and protect her, but I wasn't allowed to touch her. The doctors said as little disturbance as possible, that even a mother's touch could be too much for her fragile state.
My mind spun: If you leave me, Lani… if you die, what will I do? How will I go on? You're my last reason for breathing—you're my heart outside my body.
I watched her chest rise and fall under the machines, each breath a fight, a prayer I didn't even know how to say. The rest of the world felt meaningless compared to the agony of watching her like this, unable to help, unable to fix what I'd let happen.
That's when I heard the voices down the hallway—Lenna's voice, sharp as a whip, echoing off the walls.
"THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT! IF ONLY YOU WOULD HAVE LISTENED TO ME WHEN I SAID THIS IS WRONG! YOU SHOULD HAVE PUT HER BACK LIKE I TOLD YOU TO. THAT CHILD IS FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE BECAUSE OF YOU, AND AMIRAH MIGHT LOSE SOMETHING SHE HOLDS MOST DEAR! ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY NOW? YOUR PLAN WORKED. YOU GOT TO SEE THE CHILD. BUT LOOK AT WHAT IT COST YOU!"
I stumbled to the door and swung it open, my body shaking with anger, despair, and something unfamiliar—resolve.
In the center of the hallway, the whole family was gathered. Lenna was facing off against Xavier, her face red and blotchy, her hair wild; she looked like a force of nature, all pent-up rage and tears. My father, my so-called protector, stood there hiding behind his cold mask, but for once, I saw the guilt, the horror, the shame in his eyes.
My voice sliced through the heavy silence.
"You…" I hissed, the accusation heavy enough to crush stone. "Did you do this? Did you touch her? Did you put her in their hands and let them cut into her? My baby—my baby—is dying in there. All because you needed to be in control."
Every pair of eyes in the mansion turned to me, wide and filled with fear, guilt, and regret. But I didn't care. All that mattered was my daughter behind that door, fighting for her life—and the man who destroyed every shred of safety I'd ever tried to build for her.
"You took everything from me once before, Father," I spat. "I will never—never—let you near my child again."