the air, I can’t control the flow of tears or the hiccups choking me with every second that ticks by.
“He’s gonna be okay.” From his chair, my dad takes my hand and brings me to him for a tight hug.
I bury my face into his neck, but when he pulls me away, I look him in the eyes, giving him my full attention.
“But, baby girl, you can’t keep these types of things from us. He could have died.”
“Santiago,” my mom warns.
My dad doesn’t look at her. “You know that, right?”
“Yes.” I nod my head as fresh tears start to roll down my face even faster. “But I promised…” I look from my dad to my mom, not wanting them to be angry with me. “He said if I told, the police would take him away.”
“They won’t.” My dad looks at my mom. “Cam is going to come live with us.”
“Santiago,” my mom says again, her voice dripping with uncertainty.
Her concern barely registers as I reach around my dad’s neck for another hug.
“After everything he’s lived through, Carmen”—my dad shakes his head—“he can’t live with strangers.” His voice is sad without even a hint of the strength I normally hear behind it.
“Of course not,” my mom agrees, which only makes me sob even more.
In all the things Camden has been wrong about, this is the worst. My not telling almost cost him his life. And in the end, he was wrong. The police won’t be taking him away. He’ll be coming home where he belongs.
“How bad is he?” My mom wants to know.
I step away from my dad’s embrace, so I can pay better attention.
My dad sighs again and looks at the doctor he came in with, who’s now standing by the door by himself.
“I’m Dr. Mursuli.” The doctor extends his hand toward my mom.
She stands up to shake it. He then does the same to me, and after a moment’s hesitation, I also shake his hand.
“Per Santiago’s request, I’ll be treating Camden during his stay at the hospital. The majority of his assault took place on his face and chest, which resulted in a dislocated jaw and a broken nose. His eyes are swollen and bruised, but he’ll be okay. Those are just the minor injuries.”
My mom takes in a sharp breath. “There are worse ones?”
Dr. Mursuli nods his head and looks at the clipboard in his hand. “He’s suffered a concussion, and he has been in and out of consciousness since he arrived. He also has three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and some internal bleeding.”
The doctor looks at all of us to make sure we understand, but I can’t listen anymore. I move away from them and stare at the vending machine, not wanting anything from there but needing some space.
What’s happened has changed Camden and me. Another scar on top of all the others scars we’ve received every time Camden’s parents hit him. It’ll be up to me to help us move past it. I just hope I’m strong enough for him. For both of us, really.
Lost in thought, I startle when my mom puts her hand on my shoulder, but I smile when she finally utters the words I’ve been waiting for. We can go see Camden. He’s still asleep, or unconscious, but relief fills me, knowing I get to see him.
When we get to Camden’s room, the police stop my dad to ask him more questions—something about holding Camden’s parents at gunpoint—but my thoughts only circle around Camden, and although I hope my dad isn’t in trouble, I leave him to defend himself.
On weighted legs, I walk slowly into Camden’s room. I go to his bed and sit on the chair next to it. Ignoring a beeping machine next to us, I take his hand in mine and swallow hard when I see him on oxygen. I squeeze my hand around his once to let him know I’m there, and then I take in his bruised face. Beneath the swelling and angry bruises, there’s a cut that goes through his top lip to his bottom lip. The gauze over his nose doesn’t hide the swelling, and there’s still dried blood under his bottom lip.
Too scared to brush away the hair from over his
“He’s gonna be okay.” From his chair, my dad takes my hand and brings me to him for a tight hug.
I bury my face into his neck, but when he pulls me away, I look him in the eyes, giving him my full attention.
“But, baby girl, you can’t keep these types of things from us. He could have died.”
“Santiago,” my mom warns.
My dad doesn’t look at her. “You know that, right?”
“Yes.” I nod my head as fresh tears start to roll down my face even faster. “But I promised…” I look from my dad to my mom, not wanting them to be angry with me. “He said if I told, the police would take him away.”
“They won’t.” My dad looks at my mom. “Cam is going to come live with us.”
“Santiago,” my mom says again, her voice dripping with uncertainty.
Her concern barely registers as I reach around my dad’s neck for another hug.
“After everything he’s lived through, Carmen”—my dad shakes his head—“he can’t live with strangers.” His voice is sad without even a hint of the strength I normally hear behind it.
“Of course not,” my mom agrees, which only makes me sob even more.
In all the things Camden has been wrong about, this is the worst. My not telling almost cost him his life. And in the end, he was wrong. The police won’t be taking him away. He’ll be coming home where he belongs.
“How bad is he?” My mom wants to know.
I step away from my dad’s embrace, so I can pay better attention.
My dad sighs again and looks at the doctor he came in with, who’s now standing by the door by himself.
“I’m Dr. Mursuli.” The doctor extends his hand toward my mom.
She stands up to shake it. He then does the same to me, and after a moment’s hesitation, I also shake his hand.
“Per Santiago’s request, I’ll be treating Camden during his stay at the hospital. The majority of his assault took place on his face and chest, which resulted in a dislocated jaw and a broken nose. His eyes are swollen and bruised, but he’ll be okay. Those are just the minor injuries.”
My mom takes in a sharp breath. “There are worse ones?”
Dr. Mursuli nods his head and looks at the clipboard in his hand. “He’s suffered a concussion, and he has been in and out of consciousness since he arrived. He also has three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and some internal bleeding.”
The doctor looks at all of us to make sure we understand, but I can’t listen anymore. I move away from them and stare at the vending machine, not wanting anything from there but needing some space.
What’s happened has changed Camden and me. Another scar on top of all the others scars we’ve received every time Camden’s parents hit him. It’ll be up to me to help us move past it. I just hope I’m strong enough for him. For both of us, really.
Lost in thought, I startle when my mom puts her hand on my shoulder, but I smile when she finally utters the words I’ve been waiting for. We can go see Camden. He’s still asleep, or unconscious, but relief fills me, knowing I get to see him.
When we get to Camden’s room, the police stop my dad to ask him more questions—something about holding Camden’s parents at gunpoint—but my thoughts only circle around Camden, and although I hope my dad isn’t in trouble, I leave him to defend himself.
On weighted legs, I walk slowly into Camden’s room. I go to his bed and sit on the chair next to it. Ignoring a beeping machine next to us, I take his hand in mine and swallow hard when I see him on oxygen. I squeeze my hand around his once to let him know I’m there, and then I take in his bruised face. Beneath the swelling and angry bruises, there’s a cut that goes through his top lip to his bottom lip. The gauze over his nose doesn’t hide the swelling, and there’s still dried blood under his bottom lip.
Too scared to brush away the hair from over his
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