Through blurry eyes, I saw that Gio had wrapped his arms around his legs and started rocking back and forth and shaking his head. The glass was still in his hand, but I could only watch helplessly as blood dripped onto the floor.
I dared to take a step closer to him.
“It’s not real, it’s not real,” I heard him whispering.
I kept my moves slow and exaggerated as I crouched down when I was just a couple of feet from him. My heart felt like it had been cleaved in two as I watched my son go through his private torment.
“I lost him two days later,” I whispered. “It was the worst day of my life.”
I swore I heard Gio let out a choked sob, but I didn’t trust my own mind at that point.
“Did you look for him?” he asked so quietly, it was a miracle I heard him. This time, I was the one letting out a sob. I wiped at my wet eyes because it felt like the strangest of victories to have him respond to me in any kind of way.
I couldn’t help but glance briefly at Remy who was standing perfectly still near the rumpled hospital bed.
“Every day,” I croaked. I turned my attention back to Gio.
Gio began to rock back and forth even faster. He ran one hand through his white-blond hair, streaking it with blood in the process. “No, no, no,” he kept muttering. His agony clawed at me and I wanted nothing more than to gather him in my arms. I would do anything to end his suffering.
“Nick,” I said, even though it felt wrong to call him that. “Dr. Taylor is here.” I shot a quick look at the man standing in the doorway. At some point, he or someone else had managed to clear the room. “I’ll go so you can talk to him, all right? Can you just… can you give me the piece of glass in your hand first? Or just drop it on the floor. Please, just…”
I couldn’t get any more words out because my throat was too thick with emotion. The last thing I wanted to do was leave my son, but I knew my presence was only hurting him more. When Gio didn’t react to my request to drop the glass, I glanced at Dr. Taylor. He nodded and slowly made his way to my side.
“Nick, if it’s all right with you, I’m just going to sit here with you for a few minutes so we can talk. Just you and me,” the soft-spoken doctor said.
I knew the man was close enough that he’d be able to intervene if Gio tried to hurt himself with the glass, but every bone and muscle in my body resisted my command to move away from him. It seemed to take hours to climb to my feet. I forced myself to move back a few steps. I wanted to curl into a ball on the floor and mourn the loss of my son yet again. I knew in my heart that I might never get him back… that the pervert who’d stolen his innocence had also stolen this too. How had I ever thought that all it would take was to find my son and things would be all right?
The despair was soul-stealing, mind-numbing. If Remy hadn’t chosen that moment to twine his fingers with mine, I surely would have lost my hold on reality just as my son had.
Remy’s other hand came to cover our joined hands and his presence at my side was a balm of sorts. It made it possible for me to move, to turn away from my child because that was what he needed me to do.
“They took it,” I heard from behind me just as I took my first step. I froze in place, certain I’d only imagined my son’s voice. I prepared myself to take another step forward when Remy’s fingers tightened on mine, stopping me.
He hadn’t heard it too, had he?
But when I looked at Remy, his eyes held mine for a moment before he slowly turned his head toward Gio.
I was afraid to move.
Remy squeezed my hand again, so I focused on that as I made myself turn around. Gio sat in the same position, still rocking, broken glass still in hand.
“I begged them to let me keep it,” my son choked out. He began to shake his head. “It was nothing to them… it was just… it was just a ball with my dad’s name… name on it.”
I felt my stomach drop out at his words. Oh God, was he… remembering?
Gio began to let out one guttural wail after another as he fisted his hands against his head. “No, please, please,” he cried. I had no clue who he was talking to or what thing he was trying to deny, but I didn’t care. I only saw my child being torn apart from the inside. In three long strides, I was in front of him and dropping to my knees. I grabbed his fists just as he began pounding them against his own head. I covered his head protectively with my hands and leaned down so I could rest my face against his hair.