Tangled

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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..

oxygen I take in and I hold it for ten seconds before letting it go in a

I can do this.

glance at Selene and Vanessa, I push open

lit, the beeping of machines and a faint hiss coming from somewhere behind

of her, so vulnerable and fragile, sends a pang of unexpected emotion

summer lake or as frigid as a winter sky, watch me

she's dead

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The Mom

presence a constant comfort. I reach out and take my mother's hand in mine, surprised

lifeless

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

of recognition. I swallow hard, fighting

I hate her.

I hate this woman.

her with the fierceness of

her like this hurts, and I wonder if it would

fact that she was fighting for her life from the wolfsbane, was so much easier

Ava. It's

a deep breath, steadying myself as I pull a chair up to the side of my mother's hospital bed. Plastic scrapes against the linoleum

see how far

eyes follow me, tracking my movements with an unsettling intensity. Despite the dullness in her gaze, there's a flicker of something

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of the fierce woman I

whisper. The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with the

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

her emaciated hand reaches out towards my face. It's a

A

away from her touch, but another part-the part that still yearns for a mother's love- remains

Her fingers draw closer.

the moment

run rampant-hope, fear, longing, and a desperate, aching need for acceptance. For a single, shining moment, I allow myself to believe that this is it. That my

in the

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

but the impact is no less devastating. My eyes fly open,

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shock, my check stinging more from the emotional