As difficult as it was, the somber minds of my students kept me grounded in the days that passed. So many people were lost in their grief, devastated by the destruction, and I found solace in keeping a watchful eye over those I cared about. It also helped pass the hours as Milo slept, recovering after his fateful battle against the top ten enchanters in the world.
Bensquirmed in the backseat, fidgeting the entire drive to the hospital. It helped that he had Sheamus nearby, keeping him calm every time Ben’s anxiety spiked. I still wasn’t the biggest fan of the old hound, mainly because I ended up with most of the walking duties. Especially with Milo’s recovery.
Thankfully, we were here to bring Milo home. I wanted to do this alone, have Ben see Milo happy and healthy—even if he faked it a little—but Ben insisted. When I spoke with his therapist, she suggested this would be good for Ben. Something about working through previous traumas and learning the dangers of magic weren’t always fatal. Or something like that. Honestly, I tuned the woman out most days. She rambled on about philosophy and intentions and blah, blah, blah.
I only agreed to the therapy because Milo insisted, and it seemed like the right move for Ben’s well-being. That didn’t mean I needed some so-called professional offering unsolicited advice about my emotional state, too.These sessions were just for Ben, not for me.
“All righty,” I said, pulling into a parking spot on the fourth floor of the hospital parking garage. “Let’s get going.”
Dread flooded my mind, making my veins run cold. I wobbled as I stepped out of the car, struggling to compose myself and shake off this fear oozing from Ben.
“I’ll just wait,” Ben mumbled.
“No,” I said, opening the passenger door. “We’re going inside.”
“I can wait here.”
“No, Ben.” I unfastened him from his car seat. “Milo is waiting on us.”
“Then hurry up.” Ben tried to fasten himself in again.
“Ben, come on.” I went to unfasten him yet again.
“No,” Ben screamed, snatching his seatbelt.
“Benjiman,” I snapped. “We’re not doing this.”
Sheamus barked. Ben cried. The parking garage turned into an overstimulated emotional rollercoaster with a tiny breakdown.
Running my hands through my hair, I yanked hard to bite back a scream. Anything to distract myself from the turmoil crawling under my skin. I wanted a cigarette. Needed a cigarette. Needed to cry, to rage, to roar, but I couldn’t. Not right now.
Ben had his fit, letting the tears flow heavily as he let the overwhelming sadness pour out. Children never had a good grip on their emotional state, and Ben’s had been ricocheted every which way in the last year, so I understood. Still, it sucked having to be the adult, be the strong grown-up, and maintain my composure while Ben released sadness.
I stood there, letting Ben have a tantrum, until he wore himself out. Sheamus whimpered a bit, tail wagging with frantic concern. As Ben calmed down, Sheamus rested his head on the boy’s lap.
“Are you feeling better?”
“No.” Ben sniveled.
“Me either.” I unfastened Ben from his car seat and lifted him out.
When I tried to set him down, he clung to me.
“Nooo,” Ben whined.
“Fine.” I repositioned him against my hip, gaining a better grip on Ben, then I snapped my fingers, directing Sheamus to hop out of the car.
Sheamus stood close to me, cautious not to stray far as we entered the hospital. I double-checked my wallet, ensuring I had Sheamus’ familiar waiver, because I wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s bullshit about me bringing a dog into the hospital. There were already a few minds giving me sour thoughts with their unwanted opinions.
They felt it was inappropriate to bring a beast into the hospital. They assumed I was a bestial witch, something that came with many other assumptions about my lifestyle. Christ, I knew people had weighted opinions about every branch of magic, but lately, I found myself encumbered by the hate bestial witches received.
When we reached Milo’s floor, our minds synced, and I swore he sensed my approach. It was as if my mere psychic touch was enough to alert him to my presence.
Milo stepped out of his room, ignoring the nurse insisting he sit in his wheelchair. I released a bated breath, at ease seeing him well and eager to return home. Admittedly, he looked silly in the short-sleeved undershirt and sweats I’d brought him. But Milo wasn’t going to sneak away in one of his trademark suits, rushing off to save the day. While I couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t have tried to escape solo, I figured keeping him incasual clothes lowered the probability. After all, he preferred to save the day in style.
Milo smiled, completely carefree, and eager to get out of the hospital. While he’d mostly recovered under Wadsworth’s care, the doctors insisted on keeping a close eye on Milo’s healed injuries. Most rejuvenation came with limited capabilities, and severe injuries like those Milo had obtained had a tendency to open back up. Thankfully, Wadsworth’s arrogance came with a plethora of expertise, and his rejuvenation didn’t falter.
Still, Wadsworth could only do so much considering the severity of Milo’s injuries. Two scars ran along Milo’s face. The first slash mark went over Milo’s nose on an angle, with a sharp cut over his cheek. The second slash mark followed the same angle with a jagged cut along Milo’s right eye.
