Evermore

Chapter Nineteen

Cade

I sat quietly in the chair.

The room was silent besides the beeping of the monitors as I watched the young girl sleep peacefully in the bed before me.

Just a few hours ago, I had rushed her in, cradling her fragile body in my arms.

Elias happened to be working a night shift. He walked over with his hands in the pockets of his white coat, his eyes filled with concern.

He's more than just a friend to me--he's like a brother I never had. It helped knowing he was there for me.

"How is she doing?" He asked.

"I don't know, man," I blew out a breath. "She'll be alright physically. But emotionally, it will be a long road after what she's experienced."

He nodded. "Yeah, it's going to be hard for her to trust anyone or feel safe."

A mixture of rage and sadness bubbled up inside me. How could this happen? How could someone hurt her? She was just fourteen, a kid trying to navigate a world that had already been unkind to her. 

"Why does it have to be this way?" He asked with a sigh.

"Wish I had an answer," I replied. We both remained silent for a moment before I said, "I spoke to people from the Child Protective Services. Her foster parent has already been arrested and they're building a case against him." 

He clenched his jaw. "Good. He needs to face consequences for what he did."

"Yeah. The evidence is strong, and there's no way he's walking away from this unscathed."

He gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Things will be fine, man," he reassured. "You'll sort this out."

I could never let anything happen to her.

-----

The next morning, there was a sudden flicker, just the faintest flutter of her eyelids.

I immediately stepped closer to the bed and brushed my thumb over her knuckles. "Aurelia, I know you're awake," I said softly. "Let me see those pretty eyes."

Her eyes fluttered again, and it opened to reveal that deep emerald green of her irises.

"Hey," I said, my voice choked with emotion. "I'm right here, you're okay."

Gazing into her eyes was like wandering through a dense forest, where sunlight filtered through leaves in shimmering patterns. 

They held the lush hues of moss-covered trees and vines reaching out to embrace the branches.

They are so familiar too. The memories came rushing back.

Subsequent to my graduation, I decided to become a doctor aiding humanitarian crises around the world.

I had witnessed the worst: natural disasters, famines, epidemics. I was a young, idealistic doctor, fresh out of school and eager to make a difference but overwhelmed by the scale of sorrow around me. 

My mentor, an experienced surgeon, had been one of those people who had guided me through the darkest times. When the world was falling apart, he seemed to hold it together.

But our work was extremely dangerous. On one of our missions, he had gotten seriously injured. I recalled kneeling beside him in the makeshift medical shelter. 

"My daughter," I remembered him saying with a trembling voice. He was a stern, austere man and I had never seen him show emotions like that. "I-I can't leave her. I just can't."

He had reached his bloodied hands into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled photograph. 

It was of a toddler with bright green eyes.