You are mine to protect

All I needed to do was stay up a little while longer. I had to get further away from Los Angeles. Here in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming, the sun was sinking, and visibility on the roadways was becoming less reliable. I was trying to restrain my movements since the pain I was experiencing was becoming terrible. At this point, breathing was becoming difficult. We had to get a motel ASAP. Erica was sound asleep in the backseat, which I was grateful for. Because she was being awakened every few hours by nightmares, she was not getting enough sleep. My eight-year-old daughter's recovery and her safety were the only things that concerned me at the time. Her exquisite face was adorned with bruises that were strikingly purple in hue. Her wrist and arm were shattered, and her pitiful right arm was covered in a brand-new purple cast. I let her down. Being her mother, it was my responsibility to safeguard and keep her safe, but I failed to do so. In addition to having broken wrists and arms and being covered with bruises, my kid has virtually stopped talking. She will only talk to me, and only then when it's necessary. I'm terrified that her heart and soul are also broken. How do I win my lovely, witty, silly angel back? How do I make all the horrible pictures that haunt her memories disappear? I catch her sleeping face as I glance in the rearview mirror. Guilt shatters my heart and crushes my spirit. I ought to have done more planning beforehand. We ought to have departed earlier. Thank goodness, a motel is seen as I continue to contemplate the events of the past several days and see the sign for the next exit. Before I passed off, I needed some sleep and a painkiller. At about three in the morning, we started driving. After gently releasing the car from the ramp, I proceed to Motel 8 and book a room for the night. The elder woman gives my hand a gentle squeeze and hands me the room key, taking in my appearance rather than asking any questions. I give her a quick grin of gratitude and go back outside. We unpack and put Erica on the bed before making ourselves comfortable. My vision was being obscured by black patches, and the discomfort was getting worse. Under these circumstances, we could no longer handle this alone. I reached for the nightstand phone and called the only person I knew could be of assistance. All I could hope was that I was close enough. Answering was the voice on the other end of the line. "Hello," that voice said. Immediately, memories filled my head. Is this Jasmine Williams, Jasmine? Susan? Is that you, Susan? Oh my god! The voice exclaimed with ecstasy. "Yes, that is me, Jasmine." I took a moment to try to clear my thoughts because the fog was beginning to descend. "Jasmine, please assist me. Although it's been a while since we chatted, I need your assistance. Picking up the other line, Jasmine urgently called from someone named Aaron. My mind was racing. I gave her as much information as possible. Highway 120, Motel 8, Collins, needs assistance in Room 13. The phone fell out of my grasp, the world went dark, and I gave up, hoping she would arrive.