“Mommy! Dylan cried.
๐€โถล๏ฝแปืฉ๏ผฅ๐๏ฝ.ฤ๐๐ช
Anxious, I asked, “Dylan, what’s troubling you? What did you dream about?”
His fearful gaze was disconcerting; Dylan was usually composed beyond his years; not like the rest of the kids.
But he simply shook his head, refusing to articulate the contents of his nightmare. He looked at me, anguish in his eyes, and posed a heartrending question. “Mom, why did you leave me in the hospital after I was born?”
๊งเผโฌ๐๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐๐ธ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ต๐ผ.๐๐ธ๐ถโฌเผ๊ง
I was utterly thrown off.
The very question he posed had been a source of my guilt and a subject I had consciously sidestepped.
Overwhelmed with remorse, I offered my apology. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I was frail at that time. After giving birth to you and Elena, I had to entrust your care to the nurses, and it was then that someone took advantage.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter.” Dylan accepted my response with a pout.
“But Mommy, can you promise that our family won’t be torn apart again? I fear a repeat of those events.”
My heart ached as I made a solemn vow. “I promise you, Dylan, our family will stay whole.”
Dylan found solace in my words, and his face brightened.
Nestling in my embrace, he soon drifted back to slumber, but my mind was a maelstrom of disquiet.
The enigma surrounding that fateful day, the questionable actions of Gale, and the supposed death of Dylan remained unresolved, like an unsettling riddle in the corners of my mind.
Debra’s POV:
When I thought about Dylan’s grave in the Xeric Pack, it hit me right in the feels. Back when I believed Dylan was six feet under, I made it a yearly ritual to visit his supposed grave. Little did I know, the grave probably held nothing but air, or worse, someone else’s remains.
How absurd was that? I used to think I was pretty sharp, but I got played when it came to my own son. And here I am, clueless about who pulled the strings behind this messed-up puppet show.
“Ivy, I’m a total loser,” I muttered, feeling the weight of it all.
“It’s not on you,” Ivy replied, offering her sympathy. “We were on the run back then. Survival was the
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main game. Who could blame us for not keeping tabs? Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much. You can’t shoulder all the blame. It’s just going to mess with your head even more.”
I shook my head, bitterness flooding my heart. “Nope, it’s all on me.
I was a wreck at that time, too overwhelmed with grief to properly examine the baby’s body. That’s how I was taken advantage of. If I had been more vigilant, if I had just looked closer, maybe I would’ve caught something.”
Regret weighed heavy on my words, thinking about how my son wouldn’t have gone through hell if only I had been more careful.
Ivy, usually the comforter, fell silent, and my tears started to flow.
“Honey, what’s up?” A deep, soothing voice echoed in my ears. A pair of hands, warm and familiar, wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a comforting embrace.
Caleb, standing behind me, rested his chin on my shoulder and gently wiped away my tears. His concern was palpable. “Spill it. What went down while I was away?”
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