Page 70 of Hidden Heir

He leaves me with a strange, unsettled feeling in my stomach. There’s something about his apology that seems genuine but I can’t accept anything from someone who deals in people as product.

Leon included.

And yet Leon was my sole comfort in that terrible place. Even now, the thought of being away from him sends an anxious tremor through my heart and I ache to see him with my own eyes. It’s a complicated mix of emotions, made worse by my instinctual ache to see my child.

I close my eyes and sink back into the pillows.

One thing at a time.

Recovery is slow.

The next time Selina visits, she tells me that Leon and I were held captive for three weeks. It felt longer and shorter at the same time. As the days pass, I ache to see Tiffany but I don’t want to scare her with how I look. Every time I use the bathroom, I stare into the mirror, barely able to recognize myself through the bruising and lacerations. So each time Selina asks, I decline.

I want to be whole again, back to myself before I see her. Eating is a struggle but through the help of a psychiatrist, I’m able to work through the mental blocks I created while being starved. A physiotherapist visits me regularly to help with my hands as they slowly heal from being impaled.

The first time the bandages came off I couldn’t even look at the scarring. It wasn’t until after a week of therapy that I was finally able to acknowledge the damage. The scarring on my palms will never fade, and I’ve lost sensation in two fingers on one hand, but I’m able to grip things without pain. Writing is a challenge and something that will take a lot longer than a few weeks.

Once I’m able to walk around the room and make a cup of coffee by myself, I finally ask Selina to bring Tiffany. The wait is excruciating and I keep telling myself to be calm and composed when I see her.

All of that goes out the window when the door opens and Tiffany sprints into the room, yelling for me at the top of her lungs. I drop to the floor and hold her so tightly that I fear her bones might crack. I’m unable to keep a lid on the sobs that pour from me like lava. We cuddle on the floor, crying on each other while Tiffany talks about how much she missed me.

I can’t find the words to explain how much I missed her. It was like a piece of me had been carved out and kept from me. Now that she’s back in my arms, I finally feel whole again. We stay on the floor, hugging and crying, until my legs go numb. Then Selina helps me into the bed and we remain there, locked together, while Tiffany tells me everything she’s been up to in my absence.

Tears come again when it’s time for Selina to take her home. I pepper kisses all over her face and promise I will be home as soon as I can, once I’m no longer sick. It’s the easiest way to explain it to her and she promises to come back every day untilI’m better. Selina repeats that promise as she whisks Tiffany away.

I sleep much better that night.

The next day, Selina brings her back as promised. My occupational therapy session with writing turns into drawing practice as Tiffany and I have a small competition of who can draw the best beach. She wins by miles because I let her.

The hours pass quickly. When Tiffany starts to get hungry, Selina takes her by the hand and leads her to the cafeteria while I get some dressings changed by a nurse. Just as she finishes up, there’s a knock at the door.

It’s Leon.

Seeing him again is like a solid punch to the chest. He leans on crutches with one leg in a short cast, helping his broken ankle and busted knee heal up. He looks better since the last time I saw him, but the injuries on his face are still as clear as mine.

“Can I come in?” He lingers in the doorway as the nurse gathers her supplies and takes her leave.

“Sure but should you be up and about? Selina told me they had you in isolation because of an infection.”

Leon limps into the room, grimacing slightly as he does so. “I was impatient,” he replies. “But I’m on the mend. It’s been a couple of weeks. I couldn’t stand not seeing you for any longer.”

“I wanted to visit,” I say, moving to the edge of my bed. “But with the infection and everything, I didn’t want to put you at risk.”

“I would have taken that risk.”

I roll my eyes. “After everything you’ve been through, that would’ve been a dumb way to die.”

Leon snorts. “I wouldn’t have died. I’m built different.”

I cast an accusatory glance at his leg. “Sure you are.”

“So how are you?” Leon hobbles closer. “Selina told me you’re acing therapy.”

“I can draw a beach.” I pick up my drawing from earlier. “It’s a start.”

Leon shuffles forward again. There’s a pained eagerness in his eyes that makes my heart flutter. He’s as gorgeous as ever, more so now that his face isn’t bruised and swollen, and he’s not drenched in blood. It’s strange to see him; memories of our time in captivity are still so fresh.

“How are you really?” he asks, his voice low.

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