Chapter 36

She sat by Emily's bedside, sinking in a storm of thoughts about the hospital, then felt a little squeeze on her hand. She looked down; a small, fragile smile appeared as sleepy eyes opened.

"Mom, where am I?" The voice was soft, confused, from Emily.

Emma gave a reassuring smile and brushed a hand over Emily's hair. "You're at the hospital, sweetheart. How do you feel?"

"Mais. I was at school," Emily murmured, her face scrunched up in confusion. Emma's heart ached with her innocence. She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. "Yes, you were, baby: But you needed just a little check-up, so I brought you here while you were sleeping" Emily pouted, looking around the sterile hospital room. "But I hate hospitals."

Emma let out a soft laugh; she wanted to lighten the mood. "I know, I hate hospitals too. We both do-that's something we

have in common."

"Where's Ethan?" Emily asked, her voice barely above a whisper

"He's at home, safe and sound," Emma replied, squeezing her daughter's hand to give her comfort.

mother's face. "Mom. am sick again?

firm at once. "No, baby,

Mrs. Parker was teaching us," Emily murmured, confused as if

be fine, Emma whispered

I don't wanna die, Mommy, she whispered in that high-pitched voice as the crack shook

heart seized, and a surge of fierce determination coursed through

that happen. No one is yet gently, held Emily's gaze fast with hers-her eyes welling up with tears. "You will not die, Emily," she said, the full force of her emotion now making her tone firm, her words almost a vow You are not dying I

said nothing more, her mother steady reassurance soothing her small sobs. Emma rose to her feet, her heart racing with the whirlwind of her mind. The words from her daughter finally broke down the fragments of hesitation that she struggled to hold on to. She had sworn never to return to Blackthorn, but her daughter's life was much more priceless than some grudge, more than any kind of fear or

needed to act now, no matter what that required. Her daughter came first, and she would do whatever was

to her homeland; the only thing that mattered now was her daughter's life. The very thought of touching her foot again in Blackthorn

her old life. Going by either Black or Moore would be like handing herself over on a silver platter. After some thinking, she settled on Smith as the last name and Carol for the first name. Common, ordinary, unmemorable-it was perfect. The name would let her be mobile without turning heads, even close to

all the documents: passports, medical files-everything to make her new identity absolutely watertight. She signed the referral document for Emily's treatment at Blackthorn Hospital and so set the wheels in motion. By morning, her

Tue, Dec 17

knew what lay in

mother's worry yet strengthened by

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