“Why not?” She questioned. “You fix Mama all the time!” And at the promise of calling her soon, she asked, “What if Mama says I’m okay – can we go home then? I just want to go home.”

Anons from My Muses Children || Selectively Accepting

Tom let out a heavy sigh as he drove. “Because, honey. Daddy thinks when the chair squished your arm, something might have gotten broken,” he paused, looking at her in the rearview mirror. “It may not look broken on the outside, but that doesn’t mean something isn’t broken on the inside. I know it hurts, honey. I know,” his words tapered off to a whisper as he pulled into the valet roundabout at the Children’s Hospital Emergency Room. He tossed the keys to the teenager working and scooped his daughter up, walking briskly inside. “Now, they’re going to give you a special bracelet with your name on it, okay? Go ahead and give them your arm that doesn’t hurt, ‘kay?” Tom’s stomach was filled with butterflies – not the good ones. He’d been through much more dire situations at work, but this was his first experience with his daughter as the patient.