WITH YOU | TWD

[22] FREEDOM

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, the sterile, almost clinical environment. The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of a single overhead bulb casting long shadows across the bare walls. Charlie sat on the examination table, her posture rigid, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her eyes were focused on a distant point on the far wall.

William stood by the door, leaning against the frame with his arms folded. She felt his gaze. His presence was like a distant shadow, a reminder that he was there, watching over her

The doctor moved around the room, his footsteps deliberate as he prepared to examine her. His gloves snapped as he tugged them on, and he glanced over at her with a detached expression.

Her fingers brushed against the small bead she had been given. It was the only thing that anchored her right now, the only thing that kept her from floating away into a sea of anger and pain.

"You've been eating, drinking enough?"

Her eyes fixed somewhere just beyond the man's shoulder. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her silence an unyielding barrier.

"She eats and drinks just fine...Thanks to our dad," William answered.

"Parents can be quite convincing," the doctor smile, writing something on the board. "No dizziness or fainting spells?"

"Dizziness is probably because of the fact that she's locked in a cell."

The doctor set his clipboard aside and leaned in, inspecting her face with an almost mechanical precision. His gloved fingers brushed against her cheek as he tilted her head to one side, revealing a dark, mottled bruise blooming just above her collarbone.

"How did this bruise happen?"

Her eyes wandered to the far corner of the room, where William stood silently, arms crossed, his gaze unreadable. It was the first contact until they entered the doctor's room.

"Did he do this?" the doctor asked.

—

The sound of footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor, drawing Charlie's attention from the solitude of her cell. As the door swung open, a figure stepped inside, silhouetted against the faint glow of the hallway beyond. Charlie's heart clenched with fear. She backed away from the intrusion, her body tensing.

Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the familiar figure, her father.

"My baby," Clay cooed and kneeled in front of her. He cupped Charlie's cheeks in his hands. She leaned into his touch, once she familiar scent of his aftershave embraced her. She leaned into his touch and their foreheads met, "Oh, my babygirl. I thought I'd lost you."

"Dad," she sobbed. Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes, tears of relief, of gratitude, of love. She wrapped her arms around her father, pulling him close as.

"I'm here, Charlie," Clay murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll always be here."

"I missed you, Dad," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Clay held her tight, his embrace a sanctuary in the midst of chaos. "I missed you too, sweetheart," he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Why is my daughter in this crap?!" Clay's voice thundered through the dimly lit cell, his words a sharp contrast to the soft moment they had a second before.

Charlie's heart skipped a beat as she watched her father, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and concern. Her affectionate dad was gone, her strict and cold father was back. And she was so scared of him.