Abby's POV

Abby gently hums to Rebecca as she holds her. She begins to reflect on the past couple of hours.

It started with a phone call and led to holding this frighten child in my arms.

I have no idea what I am doing or what I am suppose to do.

Oh God, the reality of the pictures is far more disturbing than the Polaroid's.

I thought I would walk into this room and see a boy laying in that bed, not a….Man? Young man?

Oh shit, I cant wrap my brain around the fact that he is almost as big as Tom.

Looking at his face, the half that is not bruised or swollen, shows age beyond the one on his chart.

At a glance, you cant see the worry lines etched around his eye. The small white lines, scars, that are here and there on his cheek and forehead. They are there, like a road map of his life.

The shadow of a beard needing to be shaved is showing on his face.

I look at the hand that I am holding, the knuckles are scarred and rough. Work? Fighting?

I know in my mind that he could not hit his mother back during the abuse, most men are raised not to hit women, especially their mothers. But how could he not tell someone? Pride, maybe. Fear?

How could a mother do this to her son? How could his mother not see the pain he was in after coming home from that place? How could she not see he was broken?

My thoughts are interrupted by Noah gripping my hand.

He is shaking his head no, groaning in pain. Tears start slipping out of the corners of his eyes. He keeps whimpering "please stop".

He is fighting against something I cant see. I do the only thing I can think of, I use my free arm to move Rebecca off my lap and into the chair as I get up from it. I press the call button for the nurse.

I gently stroke his cheek, softly telling him that he is safe. He fights harder for a moment and then starts to quiet down, his body still trembling from the fear.

The nurse walks in and I tell her what is happening. She disappears and then reappears with a syringe. She injects it into his IV and the tremors begin to subside.

I thank her as she is leaving the room.

Noah's tears slowly stop and he is peaceful once again. I keep holding onto his hand knowing that it is not going to be over for a long time.

Fugitive by Mark Salling

And if you find my cold remains

Well, you'll bury them with you

In a field far away from the damage that they do