AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is Chapter 34- the website had been having problems posting and notifying people of updates, so please go back and read the previous chapters if you haven't already!
The medical details and the explanations for things are a mix of information from the episode and fiction with a little bit of medical fact sprinkled throughout- I made the majority of it up after doing some reading on the medical aspects of what I wanted to portray. Also, Charlie's story now has 101 followers, so welcome to those of you who have just joined the family! I'm so amazed and pleased that so many people are liking this story -I'm trying to imagine what it would be like if all of you left reviews!
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Two blocks over from Lisa's house was the main construction site. There were two trailers on the site as well as stacks of building materials and huge mounds of dirt. Around the back of the trailers, there was a huge mound of red dirt. There were a couple of freshly-built houses on the site too, and one of them was an open model for people to walk through.
Sam and Dean entered that one, and started to make their way through the rooms. They were both shocked when they got to the basement and discovered a row of large metal cages off to the side, full of children. Dean grabbed a piece of metal pipe and began to pound at the lock on the first cage door. Sam walked down the row, looking at the kids. One of the last ones was Ben.
Ben scooted forward and called out, "Dean! Dean!"
After Dean opened the first cage, he ran to Ben's and opened it. He leaned down and helped the boy out of the cage. Ben threw his arms around Dean's waist.
"It's my fault," he sobbed.
"What is, Ben?" Dean asked, hugging the boy.
"I brought Charlie to the empty house, she told me she wanted to run away. I was trying to help her! But then Mrs. Wheeler came in-" he looked up at Dean. "She's a monster," he whispered. "She changed, and she pinched Charlie's neck so that she fell down, and then she did it to me."
"I don't see Charlie here," Sam said.
"Ben, is Charlie down here with you?" Dean asked urgently.
Ben let go of Dean and stepped away. "I...I think so...I don't know where she took her, though." He pointed over to the side. "I see her walk over through there after she checks on us."
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I could hear movement, the banging of metal on metal, the cage doors must be opening, but why so often and so many? I could hear murmured talking, and every once in a while an exclamation or cry.
"Come on, come on, quickly," I heard, and "It's all right, you're safe now," hurried footsteps on the cement floor, scraping and banging.
Then I heard a girl scream, and then crashes and sounds of people fighting.
It seemed to go on forever, but then there was a loud roaring sound and a scream.
"All right, start getting them out of here," I heard someone say, and then a voice I never thought I'd hear again, my Daddy, called, "Charlie? Charlie! Where are you!"
I tried to call out to him but the cloth was still in my mouth and I was so weak I could barely move.
I heard footsteps, and then Ben's voice- "There's another cage!"
"Oh my- Charlie-" Daddy's voice said. I heard metal clanking. "Oh God! Sam! SAMMY! Get over here, man!" he called, and his voice was panicked sounding.
"Ben, how long has she been here?" Daddy asked.
"The lady separated her after the first day. She was- feeding on Charlie a lot, I think." I heard Ben's voice, rough and hesitant.
"Oh God." Daddy said again.
"Where are you, Dean?" I heard Uncle Sam's voice.
There was a metallic screech as the door swung open.
"Charlie? Charlie?" Daddy said. His voice came closer, and I tried to open my eyes. I was so tired, and cold, and weak. I tried to lift my head. I was being pulled forward, and I made a sound in the back of my throat.
"Dean, what- is she-" I heard Uncle Sam say.
Hands moved under my body, arms lifted me, I was laid on the cold ground.
"She's tied up," Daddy said. "Sam, hold this so I can get my knife-"
Hands on my legs, and movement, and then it was like the tightness keeping my legs together broke. Then I was turned over slightly and felt movement at my wrists. I felt the same sense of something snapping and then hands moving my arms around to the front. I moaned, because it hurt.
"Sam-look at this," Daddy said in a strangled voice. He had removed the gag from the back of my head. I tried to lick my lips but my mouth was too dry. Something touched the back of my neck, and I cried out, because it hurt a lot.
"I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry," Daddy said. I felt him turning me and felt myself being lifted. "I gotcha, I gotcha now, I'm gonna take care of you, Charlie," Daddy said breathlessly. I felt someone moving my hair off of my face and a hand cupped my cheek.
"Charlie? Charlie?" Daddy asked.
I opened my eyes a little bit and looked up- Daddy was looking down at me. He had tears on his cheeks.
He saw my eyes were open and looked over. "Oh God, Sam, she's alive!" he said, and I heard a footstep and then saw Uncle Sam's head leaning into my vision.
"Oh, Charlie," Uncle Sam said with relief. "Come on, we've gotta get them out of here," he said.
"Daddy," I whispered, "Daddy, I ran away..."
He looked down at me again, and I saw tears come out of his eyes and track down the sides of his face. "Charlie, I don't care about that, all I care about right now is that you're safe and alive," he told me.
"M' sorry I was b-bad," I whispered hoarsely.
"Shh, baby, don't talk. It's okay, everything is going to be okay," he told me gently.
"All right, let's go," Uncle Sam said.
I closed my eyes and listened, feeling the softness of Daddy's flannel shirt on my cheek. I could hear Uncle Sam saying, "Okay, follow me, come around here...we're going to get you home...we're just up the road from your neighborhood."
I heard the creaking of the Impala's car doors, and opened my eyes for a moment. Uncle Sam was helping the kids get into the back seat. Daddy sat in the passenger seat and held me tightly to his chest.
The last thing I remembered hearing was the familiar rumble of Baby's engine.
Then I had fragmented memories for a while, feeling myself being laid down on something soft, moving, feeling wet cloth touch my skin, seeing bright lights in the ceiling, hearing machines beeping, feeling a sharp pinch in my arm.
I heard an unfamiliar voice speaking, "Extremely dehydrated...toxins in the bloodstream...can't be certain of the effects...draw more blood tomorrow..."
I was laying in a bed. I could hear a low beeping sound. It smelled a little bit like a doctor's office. I opened my eyes. Daddy was sitting by the side of my bed, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together, and his head was resting on his fists. His eyes were closed. I could see he had stubble on his face.
"Daddy," I said, and my voice was a raspy whisper.
Daddy's head came up and his eyes got wide as he looked at me.
"Oh God, Charlie," he said with relief, and his voice broke when he said my name. It looked like tears came to his eyes. He just sat there looking at me for a moment.
I tried to sit up, to hug him, but nothing happened. My body wouldn't move. I turned my head back and forth- I could move my head and the movement made the back of my neck hurt- but that was all. I turned my head to look at Daddy.
"I can't move!" I said, and my voice was full of panic. "Daddy I can't move! What's wrong with me!"
He stood up and leaned over me. "What do you mean, you can't move?"
"I—I'm trying to sit up and I can't!"
He picked up my hand and held it in his. "Squeeze my hand," he told me.
I tried. I closed my eyes are tried to squeeze as hard as I could, grunting a little with the effort. Then I opened my eyes and looked up at him again.
"Did you feel it?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No, sweetheart," he said.
I burst into tears. "What's wrong with me? Daddy, what happened?"
"Shh, Charlie, it'll be okay. Let me go out and see if the doctor's out there, okay?"
He turned away from me and I turned my head to follow him.
"Don't leave me!" I called.
I saw him open a door and step outside, and heard his voice calling. Then he came back into the room and came back to the bedside. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.
"Daddy," I whimpered. He sat down in the chair again and reached for my hand.
"Don't worry," he said reassuringly, "we'll figure this out." He reached over and brushed my hair off of my face. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked.
I thought back. I remembered being in the dark, and cold, and feeling pain in my neck, the feeling of someone bending over me-
"Oh," I said, feeling embarrassed. "I—I peed on myself once."
"That's okay," Daddy said. "It happens."
"I—I was cold, and the pee- it made me feel warm for a little while, but then it got cold and then it felt worse 'cause I was cold and wet."
"I bet it did," he said. His phone buzzed and he looked at it. "What else do you remember?" he asked.
"I was in the dark in a little place...and someone was bending over me and I felt pain in my neck-" I stopped. "It's real fuzzy."
"It's all right," he said. "It will come back to you, I'm sure."
I looked up at him. "Daddy, are you mad at me 'cause I ran away? I'm- I'm sorry I was so mean at the party."
Daddy shook his head. "Don't worry about that, Charlie. I'm not mad at you, and you're not in trouble or anything. You're- you're sick, and the only thing that matters right now is getting you better." He leaned over and kissed my forhead. "I'm sorry I was mean too, I didn't even stop to think that you could be feeling insecure about Ben. I'm not going to stop-"
When Daddy said the name Ben, I saw him in my head, and then it was like a box opened in my mind and I remembered everything. I remembered Ben taking me to the empty house, and then Mrs. Wheeler coming in, and doing something to my neck.
I burst into tears. "I remember, Daddy!" I sobbed. "I do remember!"
The door opened and someone came in. I could hear heels clicking on the floor. I turned my head to look. A woman with short gray hair stood by the bed with a clipboard. She nodded at Daddy, then she looked down at me.
"Charlie, it's so good to finally meet you," she said, and her voice was low and warm. "I'm Dr. Miriam, and I'm going to help you, all right?" she looked at Daddy. "What's going on? She can't move?"
"She woke up and said she tried to sit up but she couldn't- I took her hand and told her to squeeze it, and she said she was, but I didn't feel anything." Daddy said, looking up at her.
"All right, Charlie, I'm going to examine you," she said. She lifted my hand up.
"Keep your hand in the air," she said. She let go and my arm flopped onto the bed. She took my hand and put her hand on mine so that our palms were touching. "Push my hand, as hard as you can," she said. Again, nothing happened- my hand fell to the bed. She did a few more things like that, checked to see if I could move my feet or my legs.
"Well, we weren't sure what the results were going to be from the toxins, but now we know," she said to Daddy. "Paralysis. I want to get some more tools and do some more thorough testing, and probably do an MRI or CAT scan."
"Is it- is it temporary?" Daddy asked hesitantly.
"We won't know that until I do more tests. I'll be back in a while, I need to look up some information." she said. She turned to me. "Charlie, we'll get this figured out, all right? We're going to figure out how to help you. I'll be back later to run some more tests."
She turned and left the room.
"Daddy..." I whimpered. "What's wrong with me?"
"Shh, baby, we'll figure it out," he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me forward, putting his arms around me and hugging me. It felt strange since I couldn't hug him back. My face got pressed into his shirt. "Daddy-" I said, my mouth muffled.
He moved me back a little bit, holding me up. "Is that better?" he asked. He laid me back down in the bed and bent to kiss my forehead.
I heard the squeak of the door hinges and then Uncle Sam's voice, "She's awake?"
Daddy turned and walked quickly over to him. I heard him talking in a low voice for a moment, and it sounded like Uncle Sam asked a question. After another moment, I heard footsteps and turned my head towards them.
Uncle Sam and Grandpa John, wearing a sling on his arm, walked in behind Daddy. They walked around and stood on the other side of the bed. Uncle Sam leaned down and I felt him kiss the top of my head.
"How are you, Charlie?" he asked.
"I—I can't move," I told him, and he nodded. "I know, your Dad told me. It's okay," he said soothingly. "The doctors are going to take care of you."
I looked up at Grandpa John. "No ice cream," I said.
He frowned. "What, darlin'?" he asked.
"You said... you'd take me for ice cream if I behaved, and I didn't... I ran away...and now look..." I felt ashamed.
"I'll get you whatever you want, little one," Grandpa John said gently, and he reached down and cupped my cheek with his hand. He smiled at me, but his eyes were sad.
"Heard anything from Bobby?" Daddy asked.
Grandpa John shook his head. "Not yet."
"What happened to your arm?" I asked him.
"Oh, I, uh, had an accident. Fell down and broke it," he told me. "Your Dad and Uncle Sam are taking care of me."
Uncle Sam scoffed and shook his head. "When you let us," he muttered.
"Hey, I'm not used to it, you ought to know that by now." Grandpa John retorted.
"Stubborn old man," Sam shook his head.
"Where do you all think you got the Winchester stubbornness from?" Grandpa John looked at him.
I heard the hinges on the door squeak again and footsteps. A nurse came in rolling a machine and put it next to my bed.
"This is going to measure your blood pressure every so often, and your oxygen saturation," she told me. She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my upper arm and then placed a little black clip with a digital display on it, on my index finger.
"What's ox'gen sat-satra-?" I asked her.
"How much oxygen is in your blood," she explained, "We're going to monitor it for today, all right? The machine will alert us to any changes." She smiled at me, and then left the room.
Grandpa John said to me, "I had a blood pressure cuff on my arm when I was in the hospital too."
"You did? Why?" I asked.
"Well...it's just something that hospitals like to check," he said.
"Daddy, what was that creature?" I asked in a quiet voice. I saw Daddy glance at Uncle Sam and Grandpa John, and they all looked uncomfortable.
"It was called a changeling," Daddy told me. "She picked a human to look like and disguised herself to look like them."
"Why? So she could take kids?"
Daddy glanced at Uncle Sam again. "Yes," he nodded.
"She would...bite the back of my neck, and then it would make my back feel like it was burning and it would hurt," I said. "And then everything else started to hurt, my muscles and everything, and I felt tired. What was she doing?"
Uncle Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, we're still...not sure, Charlie. What else do you remember about being with her?"
"I would, uh, hear other kids crying sometimes. The first time she took me out of the cage, I tried to run away and I kicked her and fought her. She...she hit me, and knocked me down on the ground." I said. I heard Daddy take a deep breath. "Then the next time she took me out, I tried to bite her. She hit me again and then got some ropes and tied me up and put cloth in my mouth and tied it on my head so I wouldn't bite. And I kept screaming too, as loud as I could. She got madder at me because I wouldn't stop."
Uncle Sam shook his head as he smiled at me. "I'm glad you're such a fighter, Charlie," he said.
The door opened again and another nurse entered the room. She was carrying a small plastic basin.
"I'm here to clean the wound on your neck, sweetie," she told me. She went through a doorway that was in the room and I realized there must be a bathroom in the room because I heard water running from a sink.
The nurse came out with the basin and looked at everyone. "Well, Dad, can you help me out?" she asked. "Lift her up for me."
Daddy sat on the bed facing me and picked me up so that I was sitting up, and leaned me on his chest. I noticed that my hair was hanging in my face, and it was short!
"What-what happened to my hair?" I asked. "Ow!" I exclaimed as I felt her taking the bandage off the back of my neck.
"Oh- well, this wound had gotten infected, you see, and your hair had gotten caught in it, and all tangled up. We had to cut it, it was too messy and tangled and it needed to be removed." The nurse explained.
I burst into tears. "But- my hair! Why did they cut it? Couldn't they have combed it out? Why?"
"No, sweetie, there was blood and...other material mixed in the tangles, it would have taken too much time. They had to get everything cleaned up as quickly as possible. Your hair will grow back."
I felt Daddy's hand on the back of my head. "It looks fine, Charlie, it's just a little shorter."
"But my hair's always been long! Short hair is for boys! I hate it!" I wailed. "OW!"
"All right, almost done here," the nurse said.
"How can you hate it, you haven't even seen it?" Uncle Sam asked. "It looks cute, Charlie."
"No it doesn't!" I sobbed. "I'll bet it looks terrible and you're just saying that!"
"No, it doesn't look terrible," Daddy said reassuringly. "You can still wear barrettes in it too. We can bring your Hello Kitty barrettes in for you to wear if you want."
I tried to pound my fists and kick my feet, forgetting that I couldn't move. I was so frustrated!
"This isn't fair!" I cried out. "Why is this happening?" I started to cry harder, and then growled with frustration when I tried to move again and nothing happened.
"All done, you can lay her back, Dad," the nurse told Daddy. I heard her moving around behind me as she cleaned up.
Daddy moved me away from his shoulder and looked at me. "What is it, Charlie?" he asked.
"I DON'T LIKE THIS!" I screamed. "I—I -CAN'T- MOVE! WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!"
"Sweetheart-" Daddy said, and his face looked upset. "We'll get this figured out, I promise. Things will all work out."
"You don't know that!" I exclaimed angrily. "That's what people said about Mommy, and she died!" Saying that made me cry harder.
"Sweetie, you need to try and calm down," the nurse said in a loud voice.
I glared at her. "I can't calm down!" I said loudly. "Go away!"
Daddy pulled me to him and hugged me. I looked down and saw my hand laying limp on the bed next to us. It hit me like a ton of bricks just then. I couldn't move at all! I couldn't get up and run around, I couldn't play, I couldn't do anything! I couldn't run away from everyone looking at me with sad and worried looks on their faces and I couldn't run away and hide while I cried like I used to when Mommy was sick.
I did the only thing I could do- I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs. And I kept screaming.
"Charlie! CHARLIE!" Daddy was saying loudly. He gave me a little shake. "Stop it! Stop screaming!"
"I don't like this!" I sobbed, "I don't like this!"
"I know, baby," he said, hugging me to him again. He held me and I felt him stroking my hair as I cried on his chest.
When I was finally calm, he leaned over and got the box of tissues off of the side table, and pulled a couple out. He wiped my face and then held a tissue in front of my nose.
"Blow," he said, and I did, and then he wiped my nose. I felt humiliated because he actually had to wipe my snotty nose like I was a toddler- I could remember Mommy doing that with me and me fighting her when I was little.
He leaned me back on the bed, got up to throw the tissues away and then went to wash his hands.
Uncle Sam had come over to stand on the other side of the bed. His forehead had worried lines in it as he looked down at me. He stroked my hair back from my face.
"It's going to be okay," he said, and his voice sounded funny.
Daddy sat down on the other side of me. He took my hand and smiled at me when I turned my head to look at him.
All of a sudden, I felt tired. " M' gonna sleep," I mumbled. "M' tired," and my eyes started to close. I fell asleep listening to the beeping of the machines in the room.
Dr. Miriam had come back later in the afternoon with a machine and some other stuff. She did some other tests- made me close my eyes and then tell her when I could feel her touching different parts of me with a toothpick. I told her she was trying to trick me, because she never touched me at all when my eyes were closed! Then she hooked the machine up to my arms and legs and did something and I could see the muscles move under my skin, and she said it was measuring something. I couldn't really feel anything. And I still couldn't move anything on my own.
"What's wrong with me?" I asked her.
"Well, I want to run some more tests before we talk about that, Charlie," she said. She looked at Daddy. "I've scheduled an MRI for tomorrow," she told him. "We'll see what that shows, and if we need to do any other testing. I've put an order in for another blood draw in the morning as well."
"Is there anything you can tell us at this point, Doc ?" Grandpa John stepped forward.
She turned to him. "Well, the good news is that the autonomic nervous system seems to be working, so the toxins haven't affected those functions at all. Breathing, heart rate, digestion, all of those functions appear to be fine. I'm guessing that the toxins work on the central nervous system and that's why the paralysis is happening."
"Any guess on when the paralysis will get better?" Uncle Sam sounded hopeful.
Dr. Miriam gave him a look. "I don't do guesses," she told him.
"If it's a toxin, it should wear off eventually, shouldn't it?" Grandpa John asked.
"You would think that, yes," she replied. "However, this is something that I personally have never seen before, so I'm uncertain as to the properties of the toxins. I'm waiting to hear back from a couple of colleagues who have dealt with this in the past."
"I'm waiting to hear back from Bobby also," Grandpa John said.
She smiled at him. "Give Mr. Singer my...warmest regards, would you?" She looked down at me. "Charlie, we'll do some more testing tomorrow, and then by the afternoon we should be able to sit down and talk to you about everything, all right? You should try and eat something for dinner. I heard they have chocolate pudding on the menu tonight- do you like that?"
I turned my head away from her and didn't answer her. I didn't understand what any of them were talking about, and they were talking about me as if I wasn't here!
Daddy said, "Charlie, the doctor asked you a question."
"Yes I like chocolate pudding. I don't care about dinner," I said rudely, still looking to the side.
Daddy walked partway out of the room with the doctor, talking to her, and I turned my head back. Uncle Sam was frowning slightly. "I know you're upset, Charlie, but that doesn't excuse you being rude to people."
"She was talking about me like I wasn't in the room!" I flared. "You all were!" I glared up at him.
Daddy walked back over to me. "Charlie, she was just letting us know what was going on," he said.
"I didn't understand any of that!" I snapped, and tears came to my eyes. It reminded me of when I'd had to sit in the doctor's offices with Mommy and everyone would be talking over my head about what was going on with her and nobody would ever explain anything to me.
"All right," Uncle Sam said, "From now on, we'll try to include you in the conversation and explain things. What do you want to know?"
"She used all those big words! What did they mean?"
Daddy looked at Grandpa John and Uncle Sam. "Okay, Charlie...well, you have something called toxins in your bloodstream. It's a bad chemical, I guess you could say, and the doctor thinks that's what's making you paralyzed."
"How did it get there? Will it always be there? Will I be paralyzed forever? Or will it get out of me?" I looked from Daddy to Uncle Sam.
They glanced at each other again, doing their 'talking without words' thing.
"The changeling... put it in you when she was attached to your neck. It goes into the spine," Uncle Sam told me.
"The effects of a toxin do wear off in time," Grandpa John said, "We just don't know much about this one. Bobby's trying to find out more information for us."
"The- the monster was putting stuff in me?" I asked, horrified. I didn't think I had any more tears left, but I felt my eyes fill. "That's so yucky!"
"Yeah, it is," Daddy agreed, taking my hand.
I heard the door open again and a nurse walked in with a tray. "The doctor ordered this for you, just to make sure you could handle eating," she said. She put the tray down on the little side table that had wheels on it and left. Daddy took the cover off of the plate.
"It's soup," he said. "There's some applesauce too, and chocolate pudding, like Dr. Miriam said. Are you hungry? You must be, you slept through lunch." He leaned over and pressed a button on the side of the bed, and the head of the bed began to raise up.
I could see the tray now, and I realized that my mouth was watering. Just then my stomach rumbled.
Daddy chuckled. "I heard that," he said, smiling at me. He sat on the bed, facing me, and pulled the tray over next to him, then picked up the spoon.
"What are you doing?" I asked him.
"Well, I was going to feed you, since you can't exactly feed yourself right now," he said.
"That—that's all baby food!" I nodded at the tray. "I'm not having trouble eating food!" I turned my head away from them.
"I think the doctor wants to make sure that your stomach can digest things properly," Uncle Sam said.
"I'm not eating it!" I snapped. "And you're not gonna feed me!" I glared at Daddy, who had put the spoon in the bowl of soup and was stirring it. He stopped, and looked at me.
"Charlie, how are you going to eat then? Huh?" he asked me. "Come on," he said in a wheedling tone. I glanced at him and he had taken the spoon out of the soup and was holding it towards me. I wanted so bad to knock the spoon out of his hand and send it flying across the room, but I couldn't.
I closed my mouth tight and turned my head away again. Daddy sighed, sounding frustrated.
"Baby, you've got to eat," he told me.
I turned back to him and glared up at him. "I'm not a baby! I don't need—I don't want you to feed me! I don't want anyone to!"
"But Charlie, you can't do it yourself. You've got to let me-"
"No!" I screeched shrilly. I tried to kick my feet, but I couldn't. I huffed in frustration.
Grandpa John stepped forward. "Now you listen, little girl," he said sternly. "You do need this right now. You need to let us help you, because you can't do things for yourself. Whatever this is that's making you refuse, you've got to get over it and stop being stubborn. You've got to listen to your dad and do what he says, and you need to mind all of us, because we only want what's best for you, and we're trying to take care of you. Let- your father- feed you." he said emphatically. "Is that clear?" He raised his eyebrows.
Tears came to my eyes. "Y-yes, Grandpa John," I said, feeling my chin tremble. He had never spoken to me like that before.
I looked at Daddy. "I just feel- I feel like I'm being a big baby, that I should be able to do this, 'cause I don't need to be taken care of, I'm the one, I took care of my mommy-" and then tears were pouring down my face.
"Oh, sweetheart," Daddy said. "You're not a big baby. You literally can't take care of yourself right now because you're- paralyzed. You can't move to feed yourself or walk or anything! And it will get better but it's going to take time. And while you're getting better you need to let us help you and take care of you. That's what families do, baby girl. You took care of your mom for a long time, now it's your turn. Let us take care of you."
"I—I can't!" I sobbed. "I—I'm not used to it!"
Daddy put the spoon back in the bowl and pulled me into a hug. "I know," he said kindly. "It's going to be hard and uncomfortable, but you will, all right? Don't be so hard on yourself. You're sick and you need to be taken care of, and that's what we're going to do." He grabbed a tissue and wiped my tears away, then sat down again.
He picked up the spoon again and spooned some soup up.
"Ready?" he asked.
I took a deep breath and then let it out. "Okay," I said. He brought the spoon to my mouth and fed me, and I swallowed the soup.
He gave me another spoonful and then wiped my chin off. "How is that?" he asked.
"It's good," I said. I felt embarrassed and tried to make myself not feel that way.
"I'll give you a bite with some noodles, okay?" he said, dipping the spoon into the bowl.
By the time he had fed me everything, I was tired. He pushed the tray to the side and got up to wash his hands.
"We're going to go get something to eat, and Dad needs his medicine," Uncle Sam said. "Why don't you come too, Dean?"
"Just bring me a burger back, or something like that," Daddy said.
"Dean, you should come back to the motel with us and get some sleep," Grandpa John said to him.
"I'm fine," Daddy sat up.
"Dean, you've barely slept, I can tell. I'll come back after we eat and you can go back with Dad-"
Daddy interrupted Uncle Sam. "No. I'm not leaving," he said stubbornly.
"I can stay here overnight and keep watch, if you're worried-" Uncle Sam tried again.
"No, Sam, I'm staying," Daddy said. "I'm not leaving her."
"All right," Grandpa John said. "Did you talk to the nurses about them bringing in a cot for you?"
"No," Daddy shook his head, and I noticed how tired he did look. He was starting to get dark circles under his eyes.
"I'm going to ask when we leave," Grandpa John told him. He and Uncle Sam leaned down to kiss my forehead and ruffle my hair.
"We'll be back tomorrow," Uncle Sam said.
I was just about falling asleep as they left. It seemed like I got tired really quickly now. I saw Daddy take my hand and hold it in both of his just before my eyes closed.