The journey to the ICU was surreal. Our strange procession – a tiny girl in a hospital gown wrapped in a biker’s leather vest, surrounded by tattooed guardians in leather – drew stares from everyone we passed. But Emma seemed oblivious, focused only on getting to her mother.
When we reached the ICU, my heart broke. Rebecca Bradley was almost unrecognizable, her face swollen and bruised, machines keeping her alive. Emma let out a wail that no child should ever make.
Tank knelt beside her. “She’s sleeping, little one. Her body needs to rest so it can heal. But she can hear you. Why don’t you tell her you’re safe? Tell her you found the skull angels just like she said.”
Emma approached the bed slowly, her small hand reaching for her mother’s. “Mommy? I did what you said. I ran and ran and found the skull angels. Tank is here, Mommy. The one you told me about. The one who saved you when you were little.”
Rebecca’s eyes fluttered slightly – maybe coincidence, maybe not. But Emma gasped. “She heard me! Mommy, I’m safe. The angels are protecting me just like you said they would.”
A nurse approached quietly. “Are you family?” she asked Tank.
“We’re her guardians,” he replied, and something in his tone prevented further questions.Continue reading…
