The next morning, Lyla woke feeling like her entire body was bruised. Her eyelids fluttered open and slowly let her eyes slowly adjust to the light of the Respite Room she was in. She looked around and saw she was alone. The last thing she remembered was Midwife Allegra telling her that she was "perfectly fine in the physical sense" but needed to stay overnight just in case. Charlie had been sitting in the chair next to her bed just staring off into space while she wished with everything she had that he would touch her. He didn't.

Lyla sighed, slowly sat up and swung her legs off the bed then made her way, her bare feet shuffling slowly on the floor, to the bathroom. There, she removed her robe, turned on the shower and stepped in when the bathroom was full of steam. When she stepped under the showerhead, she winced at first for each small droplet hitting her bruised and tired body. Once she adjusted to the feeling and the heat soaking into her aching muscles, she closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of the fresh water wash away the layer of sweat dried to her skin along with the blood that still tinged her lower legs.

When she finally felt clean, she tipped her head back so the water droplets bounced off her cheeks and pooled in her eyelids until they overflowed and ran like rivers down her neck. Now she attempted, like she had so many times before, to let herself grieve and move on. She thought about her baby's lifeless body coming out of her last night. She thought about how scared Charlie must've been to find her covered in blood in the nursery. She thought about the nursery; empty forever.

Nothing happened; no tears came. Lyla cleared her throat and tried screwing up her face to make the tears come. She thought about the little shoes she had waiting at home for her baby. She thought about her niece. She thought about Charlie saying, "Is this going to be the hardest thing we've ever had to do? Yes. Will it be worth it? Absolutely."

"Ahhh!" she screamed in frustration when the tears still didn't come, then shook her head underneath the water and stomped her foot on the wet tile like a toddler. She was breathing heavily, completely disoriented and incomprehensibly angry.

She wrenched the shower faucet off and quickly got out to wrap herself in a towel. After wiping the mirror above the sink to be able to stare at her reflection she looked into her own eyes and said, "What's the matter with you?" through gritted teeth. She turned her body angrily away from the mirror but caught a glimpse of her shoulder in the reflection and whipped her head back around and craned to look at her tattoo in the mirror.

Her tattoo was no longer golden but pitch black, with the ink lines slightly blurred and blistering into the unmarked skin around it's harsh black lines. She reached her right arm around the front of her body and stretched her fingers to poke the black dragon on her shoulder. It didn't move. Instead, it was frozen in a painful, contorted twist with its mouth forever frozen in a scream.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked again, except this time with a note of fear in her uneasy voice. She poked the tattoo again, touching the contorted curve in its spine, and collapsed onto her knees as pain radiated through her shoulder. "Ow!" she screamed and landed, palms out to break her fall.

When she recovered from the shock of the pain through shallow, quivering breaths, she slowly reached back around and gently touched her tattoo again; just running her fingers over it. She winced but didn't stop. The ink under her skin felt like a lump; raised and solid as though it had congealed or, somehow, gone bad.

One single tear fell down her cheek; once it splashed onto the floor beneath her she quickly dug her fingers into her tattoo and screamed, loudly and angrily, in pain. After a second of catching her breath, she scrambled to her feet and rushed back to the Respite Room.

"Hey" Abirami said, breathlessly, when she saw Lyla barreling out of the bathroom.

"Hey." Lyla said distractedly; barely registering who she was until her eyes fell on the canvas bag in her hand "Is that for me?" she asked, taking the bag from Abirami's hands

"Uh, yeah" she said, letting go of the bag quickly so Lyla could rifle through it "It's just some clothes and stuff I brought from your house. Charlie's..." she swallowed forcefully "Charlie's not well. So, I thought I'd -" Her words dropped off when she heard Lyla let out a short, cruel laugh while she was pulling a shirt on over her head. "How-how are you?" Abirami said softly after clearing her throat.

"I'm fine." Lyla said, dismissively as she pulled a pair of jeans on. After buttoning them she froze. They slid down her hips. "These are my maternity jeans" Lyla whispered, looking down at the floor.

"Oh my Merlin" Abirami gasped, holding her hands over her heart "I'm so sorry, Lye, I'm so, so sor-" she started to shake her head repeatedly and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

Lyla held up her hand to stop Abirami talking; listening to her apology was physically exhausting for Lyla. "Hey," Lyla said, jovially, looking up at Abirami "No big deal. See, look!" she grabbed her wand, pulled her pants up and pointed it at the waistband of her jeans. She shrunk them until they fit comfortably around her hips. "At least I have my powers back." he voice broke "Right?"

"R-Right" Abirami said, laughing uncertainly while looking at Lyla as though she were made of incredibly fragile glass.

"Listen, thanks for everything" Lyla said, gesturing around at the bag and her now fully clothed body. She paused, then approached Abirami, awkwardly patted her on the upper arms and then breezed passed her.

"Lyla?" Abirami asked quizzically, after her ash she turned to watch Lyla walking briskly down the hall and then descend down the stairs.

Lyla stepped out onto the street in front of the Medical Center and looked around at the people walking around; going about their lives as though nothing had happened. As though nothing had happened, the thought echoed in her head. She turned on her heel and looked toward the cottages, where she assumed Charlie was. Stared down the valley between the mountains and breathed in the fresh, invigorating mountain air trying to think of Charlie; of her life there, but nothing was coming. Nothing, she thought again. Lyla turned one last time, started walking against the flow of the other people bustling around the street, and made her way to the Knight Bus stop.

She was going home. She needed her mother.