My Mother Gave My Four-Year-Old Her Prescription Pills and Called Them Vitamins — Then the Pediatrician Read the Label
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Chapter 10 / 10
Chapter 10 - Just Emma
That night, I stood in the hallway outside her room and listened to her breathe.
The house was not silent.
The dishwasher ran.
Rain tapped the window.
A toy rolled under the bed when she shifted.
Small sounds.
Living sounds.
Not quiet.
Safe.
I thought of the clinic.
The orange bottle.
Dr. Stevens’s face.
Diane in the doorway.
Emma’s whisper.
Sweet and quiet.
Then I looked into my daughter’s room.
Emma slept with one arm thrown over her pillow, mouth slightly open, fox sock still on one foot because she had refused to take it off.
Not sweet.
Not quiet.
Not good because someone made her still.
Just loved.
May you like
Just safe.
Just Emma.
