Tangled

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162 Ava: Mom (II)

As we enter the hospital, the sterile scent of disinfectant and the hushed whispers of staff and visitors envelop us. Selene, ever attuned to my emotions, presses against my leg, offering her silent support. I reac

A few steps in, a security guard takes notice of Selene and frowns. "I'm sorry, but dogs aren't allowed inside the hospital premises."

Vanessa steps forward, her voice calm and authoritative. "This is a service dog. She's with us."

The guard glances at me, then at our bodyguards-

dressed in suits, with sunglasses, and essentially a walking cliche. His expression turns guarded and he waves us on. "Of course, my apologies. Please go ahead."

Relieved, I glance down at Selene, only to find her prancing alongside me, head high. Hey, you know service dogs aren't supposed to strut like show dogs, right?

She huffs, but stops her front-leg flicking prance.

Vanessa seems to know where to go as she navigates the maze of

corridors and several random sets of elevators.

With each step, the knot in my stomach tightens, anticipation and dread intertwined. Grateful for Vanessa's presence, I follow behind, digging my fingers into Selene's fur for comfort. Remember, she can't do anything to you, Selene whispers in my head.

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182 Ava Momin

The door to my mother's room is as mundane as any other. Brown. Silver handle. A note on the door asking to contact the nurse

before drawing labs.

Nothing that says a terrible person resides within and to beware of your heart.

My hand hovers over the handle as my heart beats loudly in my ears. Vanessa places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Remember, Ava," she murmurs into my ear, "you are in control now. Your mother's power over you exists only in the past. You are stronger than you know."

Inod without glancing at her, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep, slow breath..

lungs hurt and ache from the amount of oxygen I take in and I hold it for ten seconds

I can do this.

Vanessa, I push open

of machines and a faint hiss coming from somewhere behind

features pale and drawn. The sight of her, so vulnerable and fragile,

be as warm as a summer lake or as frigid as a winter sky, watch

like she's dead

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The Mom

close behind, her presence a constant comfort. I reach out and take my

and lifeless it

I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion. "It's

no response, no flicker of recognition. I swallow

I hate her.

I hate this woman.

love her with the

and I wonder if it would hurt this much. had I been informed

fighting for her life from the wolfsbane,

Ava. It's okay to

hospital bed. Plastic scrapes against the linoleum floor, harsh in the stillness of the

to see how far her

intensity. Despite the dullness in her gaze, there's a flicker of something

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the fierce woman

The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with the weight of our

at me, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she lifts a hand from

my face. It's a surreal moment, one that seems to stretch on for an

A

her touch, but another part-the part that still yearns for a

Her fingers draw closer.

the moment

acceptance. For a single, shining moment, I allow myself to believe that this is it. That

left in the past, and in the future

brush against my cheek, and I lean into the touch, my eyes fluttering closed. But then, in a

force and power of a healthy person, but the impact is no less devastating. My eyes fly open, and I

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more from the emotional blow than the physical