Page 66 of Madness Behind the Mask
“Sometimes babies just die.”
My heart squeezes, a sharp pain lancing through my body. My throat tight, I gasp wildly, struggling to get any air down my lungs. Is this what Olivia felt like when she just died for no reason? Did she feel like the earth was closing in on her on all sides? Unable to breathe. Unable to escape death’s clutches?
Tears thick on my lashes, Iswivel my head down to the right, down the hall in the direction of the nursery.
But Caden turns left, and I let out a choked cry. Before I can beg him to turn around, he lifts my chin up with his telekinesis until I catch his eyes.
“They’re all in the kitchen, Sau,” he murmurs. “Ryo’s with them.”
I close my mouth, then open it again to suck in the first solid breath I’ve been able to take for a while. “He’s…” I swallow, finally managing to dislodge the hard knot in my throat. “He’s okay?”
“Yes.”
I breathe out, feeling the biggest of the tremors leaving me, but the small shaky ones still tremble down my spine.“Can I see the nursery anyway?”
He stopsin the hall, and my heart flips on a nervous plummet.Has Caden seen it since I destroyed it?
“What happened in there, Sau?” he asks, and there is a tightness to his voice that causes me to flinch.
I guess Uncle David’s illusion fell when Caden tortured him.I take a deep breath, hold it for a second, then let it out, reminding myself that he never touched my daughter. “I heard crying, so I went to go check on her, but Uncle David was already there.He changed her diaper…”
I frown, trying to remember if I smelled a soiled nappy. I shake my head at the smell of a clean nursery. He didn’t touch her. I just wasn’t paying attention.
“But I panicked,” I blurt. “I thought… My magic got out of control and I…” Tears burn my eyes as I stare at him, pleading for him to tell me the truth despite how much it will hurt. “Did I kill her?” The words come out as a mere whisper, but I don’t doubt that he hears them clearly.
Hiseyes glistenas he shakes his head. “Magic didn’t kill her,” he whispers.
I shudder, my entire body caving in, and I press my cheek against his chest.
I didn’t kill her.
A small sob leaves me, but I swallow it down as I close my eyes. “Thank you,” I murmur, but whether to him for telling me the truth or to the gods for finally answering a prayer, I am too exhausted to discern.
“Do you still want to see the nursery?” he asks, his arms tightening around me.
I shake my head, wanting to see my children.Needingto see them all. “Is Leon…”
“He is here,” he says. “He’s come to have dinner with you if you’re up to it.”
“I am,” I say despite exhaustion pulling on every bone.
Caden continues walking towards the kitchen, and thespicy smell of jambalaya soon fills my nose. My stomach grumbles, suddenly realizing it hasn’t eaten all day, too full ofgrief tohavenoticedbefore.
Caden’s pace quickens, and within secondswe’re there.The room is quiet and gloomy, sorrowsnuffing out all else. Jonathan is normally asking for seconds long before anyone else has even half-finished their plates, but now he just twirls his fork around the rice, scooping out bits only to dump them back down.
Molly and Bonnie cry as they eat small amounts, Molly with her left hand, Bonnie with her right. No doubt they are holding hands under the table, giving and taking the only warmth in the room.
My eyes fly to Leon, who sits at one end of the table.Ryo is beside him, grabbing a fistful of food and shoving it into his mouth. But even he is doing it without his normal laughing gusto.
My eyes glisten as he looks up and sees me. “Mama!” He reaches for me with a soggy, dirty hand, bits of yellow mush falling off it.
I want to cry and laugh in equal volume as I see that he truly is okay.
They’re all okay.
Thank gods because I cannot lose another one.
I might’ve missed most of their moments due to being in a coma, but this past month, I have come to love each and every one of them more than life itself. They have become mymotivationsfor living, even Leon, who I havenot seen much of at all nor talked toonce.He’s been so busy, but now he’s finally here,and I take comfort in that, letting it nudge up against my grief.
