Esther’s POV
The fluorescent lights of the hospital flickered overhead, casting cold, harsh shadows across Carl’s small form. The beeping machines, the whir of ventilators, and the sharp scent of antiseptic pressed down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake.
Every breath he took was a battle. Every movement of his tiny, trembling body made my chest tighten with terror.
I clutched his hand, fingers barely reaching around his delicate wrist, my thumb brushing against the fine line of his veins.
The feral fit had nearly taken him, and the doctors were clear: another one, even a minor episode, could kill him.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my racing thoughts. I had spent years hiding, running, and surviving, but this was different.
This was not about me. Not about
