Chapter 3 - The Worst Word
At the hospital, a doctor used a word I couldn't make myself repeat: hypoxia. Not enough oxygen. Leo had been without a proper breath long enough that they wanted to watch him closely.
"Is he going to have brain damage?" I asked.
Dr. Hannah Singh pulled a chair beside me. "He's responding well. That's a good sign. We'll monitor him for complications and reassess. Right now, he needs rest."
"I hit his hand," I said. My voice came out thin. "He was trying to tell me. I hit his hand."
She didn't rush to comfort me with a lie. "You misunderstood what you were seeing. The important question is what you do with that knowledge."
I stared through the glass at the bed where my little boy slept with a monitor clipped to his finger. His stuffed dinosaur lay beside him. A nurse had found it in the ambulance and washed the coffee off its tail.
My phone vibrated. My older sister, Rachel.
"Someone sent me a video," she said without hello. "Nora, please tell me that man didn't throw Leo across a table."
"He saved him. I think he saved him."
"Then why does the video say assault?"
She sent me a link. The screen showed Jax pushing me into the booth, then Leo pitching forward. A caption had been added: BIKER ATTACKS TODDLER AT SUNSET MILE DINER. The clip ended before the back blows. Before the red object flew out. Before my son breathed.
It had already been viewed twelve thousand times.
I called the diner. A man answered, "Sunset Mile."
"This is Nora Bennett. Who posted that video?"
"I'm sorry for your unfortunate experience," the voice said. "Mr. Dorsey has instructed us not to discuss an active incident."
"My son's name is in it. Take it down."
A pause. Then: "You should probably speak to our lawyer."
The line went dead.
That night, Leo woke for a few seconds. I leaned close, desperate to hear my name.
He looked at my raised hand and flinched.
"Don't hit," he whispered.
May you like
I felt something inside me split open.
Then he asked a question I had no answer for: "Where's the big man?"
