"Mom's going to die," I cry out loud, unable to stop the tears from streaming down my face. My chest tightens with the raw weight of the words. It's like they carry all the suffocating fear I can't put into words.
"Helen, let's not jump to conclusions," Dr. Dave consoles me gently, his voice soft, but firm as he offers me a tissue.
"That's why he made Saint take me away," I mutter between sobs, blowing my nose loudly. The tissues feel like they're never enough, as though no amount of wiping could cleanse me of the horrible image that's seared into my mind.
Dr. Dave sighs, exhaling slowly as he tries to keep me grounded. "What if he just wanted you to come here? What if he thought seeing your mom like that would be too much for you?" he suggests, his tone calm but searching.
I look at him for the first time properly since I arrived. I hadn't thought of it that way—what if my dad just couldn't bear the thought of me watching her suffer like that?
