There She Is + 

There She Is + 

I finally built up the courage to call my mom after what felt like forever. My whole body was trembling, my fingers icy as I pulled my phone from my pocket. The screen lit up, too bright against the dim hospital waiting room. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I tapped open my contacts, scrolling until I found her name. + 

For a moment, I just stared at it. + 

Mom. + 

My thumb hovered over the call button, hesitation creeping in, but I forced myself to press it. Slowly, I lifted the phone to my ear, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might drown out the ringing. + 

Sadie was asleep across my lap, her small body curled into me, her breath steady despite the weight of everything around us. My hand moved instinctively, brushing strands of hair away from her face. She looked so peaceful, so unaware of the storm raging inside me. + 

Then my mother's voice broke through the silence. + 

"Hello?" + 

I closed my eyes for a second, steadying myself. + 

"Hi," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. + 

There was a pause. Then— + 

"Billie? Are you okay?" Concern laced her words. + 

I exhaled shakily. "No," I admitted, my voice cracking. "Something happened. Something bad. Can you come meet me at the hospital?" + 

The second of silence that followed felt like a lifetime. + 

"Oh my God," she breathed. "Of course. What happened?" + 

My throat tightened. I struggled to form the words, like saying them out loud would make them more real, would solidify the nightmare we were living. I took a shaky breath and whispered into the phone— + 

"Addy attempted." + 

That was all I could manage before my voice gave out completely. + 

Silence. + 

The kind that wasn't empty but heavy. Full of shock, of pain, of words that neither of us could find. + 

Then, finally— + 

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she said, her voice breaking too. + 

And then the line went dead. + 

I lowered the phone from my ear, staring at the dark screen before shoving it back into my pocket. I didn't move. I just sat there, numb, brushing my fingers through Sadie's hair, grounding myself in the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing. + 

Minutes passed. Maybe more. + 

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, my heart lurching. A message from Mom. + 

I'm here. + 

I texted back, telling her to go to the front desk and let them know she was here for Addy. Then I tucked my phone away again, slipping back into silence, back into the aching void of waiting. + 

The door to the waiting room creaked open. I looked up. + 

Mom. + 

Her eyes were red, swollen—like mine. She walked straight to me, sinking into the chair beside me. Without a word, she reached over, gently taking my hand off Sadie's head and wrapping it in hers. + 

She didn't speak, but she didn't need to. + 

She just looked at me, her gaze locking onto mine, and in that moment, I could hear what she wasn't saying. + 

It's going to be okay. + 

I didn't believe it. But I wanted to. + 

When you're grieving, I think we gain the ability to read each other's thoughts—not through words, but through emotions. Through the way we hold each other, the way we sit in silence, filling in the blanks when words are too painful to say. + 

Mom and I just sat there, staring into each other's eyes, silently holding onto each other's grief. + 

Then— + 

Another creak of the door. + 

We turned. + 

A doctor stood in the doorway, his face unreadable. + 

"Are you the family of Addison O'Connell?" he asked. + 

Mom and I both nodded. + 

"Would you like to follow me, please?" + 

Mom stood first, but I hesitated. I looked down at Sadie, her small fingers still clutching my hoodie in her sleep. Gently, I shook her awake. + 

She blinked groggily, her eyes darting around the room. Then she saw the doctor—and I think she understood. + 

She stood up without a word, sliding her hand into mine. + 

Together, we followed the doctor down the long corridor, the sterile white walls blurring as we walked. My pulse roared in my ears. My feet felt like they were carrying me toward something I wasn't ready to face. + 

Then the doctor stopped. A door creaked open. + 

I stepped inside—and the second my eyes landed on the hospital bed, my breath caught in my throat. + 

Tears blurred my vision, but I could still see her. + 

There she was. + 