“I’m not,” I muttered, fastening the diaper and second-guessing myself over how tight or loose it was.
“You’re doing fine,” he said. “Look, I know you’ve had a hell of a day, and I’m not here to make it harder, but I need to ask a few things, just so we can help.”
My pulse jumped. “About her mom?”
“About everything,” Marcus said gently. “Where you came from, where you’re headed. Anyone we need to contact. We’re not the cops, Morgan, but we can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.”
“Corporal, uhm… infantry… out now, just… I came home and my ex… hell, she wasn’t even really my ex…” I hesitated, adjusting the blanket around Gabbi. “There’s no one else in Gabbi’s life now. Just me.”
Marcus’s brow furrowed. “You said you found Gabbi’s mom dead? Can you tell me what happened?”
I shook my head, jaw tight. I could still see it—the apartment cold and silent, the TV’s flickering light throwing shadows across Annie’s still face. The air reeked of stale smoke and a metallic scent. Gabbi’s cries cut through the quiet, tiny fists waving, desperate and alone. I remember standing there, frozen for what felt like hours before I finally moved. My stomach had turned; my knees were weak, and my palms were slick with cold sweat. I didn’t have to touch Annie to know—she was already gone.
“Her mom told me she’d gotten clean,” I said, voice rough. “Told me I had a daughter.”
“So, your partner was?—”
“Not my partner. One night. A friend…” Everything tumbled out, and I inhaled sharply. “I took Gabbi and left.”
Marcus studied me for a long moment. “All right. Then we’ll start there.” He scribbled something on his clipboard and looked up again. “We’ve got a few open rooms. Stay, get some rest, and we’ll sort the rest tomorrow.”
The support hit harder than I expected. I nodded, and whispered, “Thank you.”
Marcus’s voice softened even more. “I’m sorry about Gabbi’s mom,” he said quietly.
I swallowed hard, staring down at Gabbi’s tiny fingers curling around mine. “Yeah,” I said. The word came out small, broken, and my throat hurt.
Marcus gave a slow nod that conveyed more understanding than words could express. The silence between us felt heavy, but not awkward—just honest. Finally, he said, “You did what you had to do. You got your daughter out. That counts for something.”
I looked up, eyes burning again. “Does it?”
He met my gaze. “Yeah, Morgan. It does.” He hesitated before setting the clipboard aside. “We have someone here to talk to you,” he said.
My stomach dropped.
“Cops?” I asked. “She’s mine. I won’t let anyone take her. I didn’t do anything wrong!” Apart from not reporting a death. Was that a crime? I couldn’t think, and the pounding in my ears was suddenly so loud it drowned out everything else.
Marcus shook his head, the movement slow and deliberate. “No, not the police. A lawyer. Someone who can advise us on the next steps. Paperwork, guardianship—just to make sure you and Gabbi are protected.”
I exhaled slowly. “A lawyer,” I repeated, glancing down at Gabbi. My hands shook as I adjusted the blanket around her. “Idon’t have the money to pay for that.” The walls suddenly felt closer, and the air was too thin. I couldn’t breathe.
“You don’t need to, it’s funded by Guardian Hall,” Marcus said.
But all I heard was another trap closing in. My heart pounded, my chest hurt. “I can’t take money,” I said, the words scraping out of me. “Maybe I should go.” Lawyers meant paperwork, and I’d lose Gabbi. They’d take her…
The urge to run, to get Gabbi out before someone changed their mind, flooded me so hard my vision blurred. I was scared, cornered, splintering apart, piece by piece. I scooped her up, heart hammering. Fear clawed up my throat until it tasted like metal. I needed air.
Panic blurred the edges of the room as I yanked open the door, clutching Gabbi. Where the hell was I even going? The hallway stretched in front of me, too bright, too narrow. I barreled into someone passing, their startled yelp breaking through the haze. I shoved them away, knew they’d hit the far wall, but I couldn’t stop. I ran. I reached the front door, twisted the handle, and yanked until my wrist ached. It wouldn’t move. Locked.
“Let me out!” I shouted, my voice breaking. My hand slipped on the handle, slick with sweat, and I wiped it on my jeans before grabbing it again. “Now!”
Gabbi started crying. Terrified wails echoed off the hallway walls, each one slicing through the air. Too loud. Too fast. I couldn’t breathe. I slammed my back to the door and slid down against it, clutching Gabbi. My breath came in gasps, every muscle shaking. When I finally looked up, my gaze met the man I’d shoved into the wall. He had dark blond hair, a stunned expression, and bright blue eyes locked on me.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you!” I blurted.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low and steady, as if he was trying to talk me down. “I’m not hurt.”
Then Marcus was there, one hand reaching out to touch my arm. “It’s okay, Morgan,” he repeated, his voice gentle but firm. “No one’s hurt, and no one’s going to take Gabbi. You’re safe here.”
