Prompt: https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-496/
“They’re pretty good, aren’t they?”
The drawings looked like cat puke, but even I wasn’t a big enough asshole to tell the mother of a four year old that, especially not in the waiting room outside her pediatric ICU.
“Mellie has a real passion for creating things, you know. When I found where she had scribbled with markers inside her closet, she was so excited that I got to see her ‘Museum.’ I hugged her and told her that she could never do that again.” Her voice broke.
“And now she never will.”
“You don’t know that, Katya. The doctors here are exceptional.”
“I don’t give a fuck how exceptional a doctor is, John! You saw what she is now – the goddamned bastard cut off her hands and..” We got stares from the others in the waiting room – sitting a socially appropriate distance away, of course – but I didn’t care. There are some times that a parent just needs to howl.
I put my hand on Katya’s while she wept and tried to find words. I didn’t dare hug her – not now, probably not ever again. But I could do this. I could be here, I could offer just that amount of touch.
I knew who the goddamned bastard was, of course. I knew he was after me, and what I could do. I knew that he hoped I’d have to give in now, now that he’d shown me how far he’d go.
And I knew he was right.
249 words
Project Gemini 