I glanced down at my beloved, waiting for him to awaken, raging heartache filling me. I finally had my boy back within reach, but he looked so fragile and broken. I hadn't seen his face in four and a half months, and felt frightened to look at it now, but forced myself to lean over his body. The sight in his left eye had been steadily declining before that monster took my sweetness from me. Now it was gone.
A small scar ran across his cheek from the botched attempts at rescuing him. It took the police three times and it never would have succeeded without his help. He had to open the door, even though he could barely reach it in his restraints.
They pumped fluids into his sickly, malnourished body for the past two weeks. He barely ate enough to survive. The doctors encased his left arm in a cast. Although the bones would heal, the scars would last forever. His right ankle, broken in his struggles, was on its way to being almost healed.
He mutilated my boy all over his inner thighs, dangerously close to a major vein. My sweet boy would need some patching up and even the prospect of explaining that to him after the last two months made me nervous. No one would blame him if he became easily upset at me.
This was the first time in months I saw my Tiger, and it broke my heart. A single word hadn't slipped past his lips yet and normally, I must demand he be quiet if I wished. I knew he was hurting, no doubt feeling violated in the deepest way possible. The doctors made me even angrier.
They assigned several doctors to his care to make sure they missed nothing, which I appreciated, but the first week he was here I couldn't even visit with him. I could deal with that. He really was in such terrible shape, I couldn't blame them for that.
Now, they physically kept me out during visiting hours. I saw others visiting with their spouses and families during this time. Why couldn't I? I waited for him for such a damn long time, and they still barred me from seeing my baby.
I was glad, because tomorrow I could finally take him home and make him feel safe again. A nurse came to me as visiting hours ended in a few minutes and I glared at him. I wouldn't leave him tonight, no way. They would have to drag me out.
"It's time for you to leave," He murmured timidly.
"I'm not leaving him again."
"You have to!" He stammered.
"Why? I don't see any of them leaving," I growled as I pointed in the direction of the rest of the tearful families.
"Uh...."
"If you want me to leave, get security."
I rose from my hard plastic chair and he fled in fear and embarrassment. I had never seen him before. I bent over my Tiger's body; I hadn't missed the flicker of his eye. I offered him my hand and he opened his eye completely, traveling over the expanse of my body as if committing me to memory.
His nails dug into me so sharply I could feel the pain, the first thing I felt since he was gone. I couldn't afford to feel anything, not with fending off the news reporters and other people who wanted to capitalize on our tragedy.
I didn't reprimand him. I didn't have it in me right now. He would probably shatter into a million pieces if I did anyway. I let him hold me, not even minding my circulation being cut off.
"You can come home tomorrow," I whispered in the cold, dark room.
He didn't even respond.
Soon enough, he fell asleep again, but I never released his hand. Someone would have to pry my hands away to make me let go of him. When his eyes fluttered open again, the very edges curved at the sight of me still holding his hands. No one could tell if they weren't as close to him as I was.
