Rowan, his jaw tight and hands clenched around the steering wheel, glanced in the rearview mirror, his gaze darkening with concern as he watched Amara try to reach Vaughn.
He knew her heart was breaking with every unanswered word, every tearful look Vaughn didn’t seem to see.
But Vaughn only blinked, barely, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something.
She leaned closer, hope rising in her chest.
“Vaughn, it’s okay now, sweetheart,” she coaxed, her voice a desperate whisper. “Mommy’s here, and you’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Her words fell flat, lost in the silence.
Vaughn remained unresponsive, his small hands trembling as he gripped his knees, his tiny body curled up against the car door.
She could see bruises on his wrists, faint but dark, reminders of the cruel hands that had bound him.
The sight of them unleashed a fresh wave of anger within her, hatred for those who’d stolen his light, his innocence.
She glanced at Rowan, who caught her gaze in the mirror, his expression mirroring her anguish and helplessness.
Rowan cleared his throat, his voice low and gentle. “He’s been through so much, Amara. Just give him time. We’ll help him through this.”
Amara nodded, swallowing her tears, but she couldn’t let go of the gnawing guilt that tore at her insides.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for Vaughn again, gently touching his shoulder. “Vaughn, do you want to talk about what happened?”
Vaughn’s little body stiffened at her touch, his eyes squeezing shut as if to block everything out.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away, unwilling to let him see her pain.
She was supposed to be strong for him now, but how could she be strong when he looked like this..
So small, so fragile, and so… broken?
She took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay, Vaughn. You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this… together baby..”
For a moment, his fingers twitched, as if he was reaching out, but then he drew his hand back, pressing himself further into the car seat, his face turned away from her.
He was retreating, slipping further away into a world of hurt that she couldn’t reach, couldn’t mend.
Rowan reached over, gently placing a hand on Amara’s shoulder. “He just needs time,” he murmured, though his gaze remained shadowed with worry.
He knew the weight of her pain, the fear gnawing at her that Vaughn might never come back to the bright, curious boy he once was.
But she couldn’t stop herself from trying, from reaching for him in whatever small ways she could.
She kept her arm around him, her thumb tracing soft circles on his shoulder as she whispered, “I love you, Vaughn. More than anything. No one will hurt you again, not while I’m here.”
They drove in silence, the weight of Vaughn’s trauma suffocating the air inside the car.
Rowan’s steady gaze remained on the road, but his fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his expression a mix of anger and sorrow, his own way of grieving for the boy’s stolen innocence.
When they finally reached the safety of the house, Rowan parked the car and glanced back, his voice gentle but steady. “Amara, let’s give him a quiet place to rest. Maybe he’ll feel better once he’s home.”
She nodded, her arms still wrapped protectively around Vaughn as she lifted him from the car, carrying him inside.
He didn’t resist but also didn’t react, his little head resting limply on her shoulder, his gaze empty.
As they entered the house, Amara carried Vaughn to his room, gently lowering him onto the bed and tucking him in, hoping some comfort of his surroundings would bring him some relief.
She sat beside him, her hand lightly stroking his hair, a soft hum escaping her lips.. the lullaby she’d sung to him countless times before.
But tonight, there was no reaction. His eyes stayed unfocused, his body still, as if even sleep was beyond him.
Rowan entered the room quietly, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched them, his expression heavy with concern. “Amara,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet support, “you’re doing everything you can. Just keep being here for him. He’ll come back to us.”
But Amara wasn’t sure..
The light in Vaughn’s eyes seemed extinguished, the once vibrant spark that made him who he was now buried beneath layers of fear and hurt.
She felt like she was staring at a ghost of her child, the joyful laughter and endless curiosity replaced with a silence so deep it tore at her heart.
Biting back her own tears, she stayed by his side, whispering words of comfort, telling him stories, anything to break through the walls he had built around himself.
But Vaughn lay still, lost in a world of memories he couldn’t escape.
“Rowan,” she finally said, her voice hoarse, “I don’t know how to reach him. What if he never comes back? What if…” Her voice broke, the words catching in her throat.
Rowan walked over, kneeling beside her and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “He’s strong, Amara. He got that from you. We’ll keep fighting for him, just like you did today. He just… needs time to heal.”
As she looked down at Vaughn, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest, she felt the agonizing weight of time stretch out before her, endless and uncertain.
She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, her own silent promise etched into that moment.
“We’re here, Vaughn,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. And I’ll never leave you.”
Amara’s whispered words hung in the air like a fragile promise, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along Vaughn’s tiny shoulder as he finally drifted into a restless sleep.
She stayed beside him, her breath shallow as though even a sigh might disturb the delicate peace he’d found in slumber.
She held his small, trembling hand in hers, the warmth of his skin a lifeline for both of them in the cold silence of the night.
Outside the room, Rowan leaned against the wall, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his gaze locked on the closed door.
His face was expressionless, but his eyes betrayed a storm of emotions.. rage, sorrow, and helplessness all roiling within him, barely contained.
Harvey stood beside him, his usually composed face lined with worry as he watched Rowan in silence, understanding the unspoken torment shared between them.
“We can’t leave him like this, Big Brother,” Harvey’s voice was soft but urgent, breaking the silence that had settled heavily around them. “He’s been through… things no child should ever endure.”
Rowan nodded, his jaw clenched tightly. “We have to do something. He’s not just going to… bounce back from this.” His voice was thick with frustration, and there was a flicker of guilt in his gaze as he looked away, his hand rubbing at his brow.
“I think we should seek a child therapist,” Harvey suggested, his voice steady but grave. “Someone specialized in trauma, someone who can reach him in ways we can’t.”
Rowan’s gaze snapped back to Harvey, his eyes dark and unwavering. The thought of letting anyone near Vaughn felt unbearable.
But he knew Harvey was right; their love alone wasn’t enough to heal the damage that had been done. He took a steadying breath, the decision settling heavily in his gut.
“Call him tomorrow morning,” Rowan said finally, his voice rough with the strain of the words. “I don’t want Vaughn to suffer one moment longer than he has to.”