Sophia and I spent hours late into the night researching the possibilities while Chiara slept on the couch. After a while, Clay carried her to Sophia’s guest room.
There’s no quick solution for Carolina to gain custody. We could hire a better lawyer for her, but until she finishes college, it seems impossible. If she reported the years of abuse, it would make it even more likely Chiara would end up in foster care than with Carolina.
The system is fucking useless.
When there is nothing left to research, we gather on the small couches in Sophia’s living room. The weight of the situation hangs heavily in the air, and a somber silence settles among us. Clay finally breaks it, his voice hoarse from remaining silent for so long.
“Five years. He had her for five years and would have her for two more.” He sighs.
“He won’t,” I reply firmly. “This ends now.”
“He’s never seeing them again. We’ll make sure of it,” Sophia says with a sniffle as she absently tears a tissue into pieces.
Clay continues, his voice shaky as he stares at his hands, “All her ribs were broken at least once. Remember when I broke a rib as a teenager? When I fell from that tree?” Xander huffs. “It was just one rib, and it hurt like hell for weeks. I couldn’t even take a deep breath. And she’s had all of hers broken.”
A shiver runs down my spine as the full extent of Carolina’s suffering sinks in. “Her collarbone too.”
“He must’ve kicked her to break her ribs. There’s no way he could’ve done it with his fists,” Xander says softly, his voice filled with anger and sorrow.
Sophia rises from her seat and stands next to the couch, clutching the edge of it tightly, her knuckles turning white as tears stream down her face. “I can’t believe what she’s been through,” she whispers, her voice quivering with grief and anger.“No one should ever endure such cruelty.” A sob breaks out of her before she turns and heads to the kitchen.
I think about going after her, but I know she needs a minute to collect her thoughts. This isn’t easy for any of us.
“The cuts…” I start, but I can’t continue, tears filling my eyes.
“I’d love to carve something into his skin, see how he fucking likes it,” Xander grumbles angrily, his fury boiling over.
“Fuck it, I’d hold him down for you,” Clay states firmly.
I look up, surprised. Clay is usually against violence, but it seems this man had better not cross our path.
“He’s never seeing her again,” I echo Sophia’s statement.
“Agreed,” Clay responds, and Xander nods.
I didn’t sleepa wink last night.
The weight of guilt and frustration kept me tossing and turning, haunted by the images of Carolina laying in that hospital bed. Those haunting thoughts clung to me even during my shift at work, making every minute feel like an eternity.
It’s past six in the evening, and we’ve all agreed to meet in the hospital after Xander and Sophia’s workdays are over to get an update from the doctor and see Carolina. Xander should be bringing Sophia and Chiara in a few minutes.
I look over at Clay, and I can tell he’s also struggled with the same sleepless night and restless thoughts. His usual styled hair is ruffled and dark circles are forming around his eyes. We haven’t really talked all day. We’ve just been driving around, hoping for a case to keep our minds occupied and divert our attention until we could finally head here.
To her.
She’s still asleep, but the doctor informs Clay and me that everything looks good and the swelling is slowly subsiding.
The fact that everything seems to be healing is like a balm to my frayed nerves. I’m grateful that she’s on the path to recovery and safe.
Yet, anxiety still gnaws at me like an unrelenting itch beneath that relief. I can’t help but worry about what lies ahead and how this will ultimately affect our lives. The uncertainty of it all lingers, and I know that despite the positive news, we’re far from out of the woods.
I’m so exhausted and in desperate need of coffee. So, I leave Clay with her for a moment to fetch cups for both of us.
Balancing the two coffees, I navigate the cold, sterile hospital hallway. My footsteps echo softly against the linoleum floor and through air that smells faintly of disinfectant.
I finally reach Carolina’s door and turn, using my elbow to press down the handle and my shoulder to nudge the door open. Once inside, I see Clay standing beside Carolina’s bed, bent over her, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.
Despite my entrance, his eyes, filled with concern and affection, never leave her face.
