Tangled

162

162

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..

ache from the amount of oxygen I take in and I hold it

I can do this.

a final glance at Selene and Vanessa, I push

room is dimly lit, the beeping of machines and a faint hiss coming from somewhere

motionless, her once-vibrant features pale and drawn. The sight of her, so vulnerable and fragile, sends a pang of unexpected

be as warm as a summer lake or as

like she's

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The Mom

presence a constant comfort. I reach out and take my mother's hand

lifeless

whisper, my voice cracking with

of recognition. I swallow hard, fighting back the tears

I hate her.

I hate this woman.

love her with

her like this hurts, and I wonder if it would hurt this much. had I been

her existence, ignoring the fact that she was fighting for her life from the wolfsbane, was so

okay, Ava. It's

chair up to the side of my mother's hospital bed. Plastic scrapes against the linoleum

how

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

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316

fierce woman I

come? 1sk, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hangs

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

heart flinches in my chest as her emaciated hand reaches out towards my face. It's a surreal moment, one that seems to

A

of me wants to recoil, to pull away from her touch, but another part-the part that still

Her fingers draw closer.

Is this the moment I've craved for so

I allow myself to believe that this is it. That my mother is finally going to show me the

left in the

brush against my cheek, and I lean into the touch, my eyes fluttering closed.

a healthy person, but the impact is no less devastating. My

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check stinging more from the emotional blow than the