A/N: not edited.

Chapter 19 – Chris

We go back into the room, sitting on the sofa against the wall, Rainy away from me, as far as possible, and I don’t know what to say next. I don’t want to push her, to ask the wrong thing, so I look down at Michelle, her fine baby hair, button nose, and pouty lips that curl when I position her back to the crook in my arm. I take note of everything, the band-on her thigh, Rainy gets up, I’ll be back in a minute, she says, walking to the door, but stopping to face me briefly, before heading to the right.

Back to Michelle, “I’m your Papa,” I whisper to the sleeping child, my voice shaking. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to protect you and your brothers and sis-sisters, but I – I swear I’ll always be here now. I won’t let any more bad men hurt any of you any more I promise,” I swore, meaning everything. My body shook, and I couldn’t see any more, I stood holding Michelle tightly, walking back to her crib and laying her down, waiting as she curled in on herself, covering her with a light blanket and walking straight out of that room, in the opposite direction that Rainy went.

.

.

.

I went to the next room, grateful it was empty, walking unsteadily, stumbling, reaching for the empty gurney but falling short, on my knees bending forward holding my head in my hands I rock, back and forth.

I didn’t want to look at the pictures in the charts, I tried to ignore them, closed my eyes but the facts, the knowledge, years of experience, I could draw inferences and I knew, could see what they meant.

So I cried about it, I broke down, allowing myself this, just this one moment of weakness, because I... this wasn’t a patient, these are my children.

My mate.

I wouldn’t let their injuries be all I saw, I couldn’t think that way. Wouldn’t let them feel as though there was something wrong with them, because there wasn’t, their fear, Kayla, Michaels, Bailey all of them, they feared me because this was the world we lived in. They happened to see the worst of it, but I could do more now, I could help them start over. I couldn’t easer the memories, I cried for not being able to do that, for knowing medically, from year of knowledge, just how hard a road was truly awaiting them. I cried for their lost childhoods, for all the things that were taken away from Kayla, Michael, Keith, Bailey and Cole.

And then, I broke all over again for Rainy, for all the things she had to endure, moments that she spoke of with a childlike innocence, when we played pretend. For all the stories, I filled her head with that never happened. The school dances I told her she’d attend, the parties, the sleep overs, the clubs, sports, hobbies she could get into, promising I’d teach her to drive, the future I promised she’d have.

Calming her down, promising her that when the other boys picked on her, they’d regret it later because they’d all like her later down the road. Teasing her when she said she’d rather play with me or color in my office, that I’d better soak up all the Rainy and Chris time now, before she grew up.

Experiences. All the experiences that were rightfully hers.

She never got it, instead… she had my babies, suffered alone, watched them grow, knowing, expecting for them to die, for her to always be held prisoner. I think of their ages, the gaps, and more horrid thoughts hit me in the face again. I’m meeting, getting to see ten of my children grow… were there any that I wouldn’t get the chance to meet? My body shakes and I’m losing control, it’s slipping, howling, tears leak pitifully down my face, and I try. I try to hold it in, cover my mouth, and restrain myself.

Rainy. Twelve. A baby. My Little Love. He destroyed her, but I know that I’m the one that did the most damage. But… behind all that anguish, I wonder why? Why did she use those names? To bring myself back, I start to ask questions.

Why did this happen? There had to be a reason. How they were even able to get my sperm deposit at the bank? How I was never notified? Who helped deliver these babies? Why ten children? What was the point, besides hurting them? Logan found them because of a video… how many of these videos were circling around? How many men hurt my babies? They couldn’t be still alive, living their lives happily, blissful while those around them remained ignorant, or worse turning a blind eye despite the gut feeling that something was wrong. My sadness, traded in for rage.

How many of these men had families, children of their own, but abused mine, while protecting their own. How many were married? Pretending to be dutiful husbands, doting fathers? Who were these men? Who thought they had the right to treat any child, any human being the way they had treated my Rainy and our babies.

My fists clenched and my knuckles lay flat against the hospital floor, and I want to lash out, smash it to pieces as the sobbing continues but I’m brought back, I had been listening to everything around me, concentrating on the side on the room next to mines.

“Whatsa Papa?” I heard a tiny voice, very low, the walls muffling the words, but I still heard them and I smile despite the tears, Sarah. I listen harder, ignoring other sounds focusing just on that. Standing shakily, and walking to the wall, resting my forehead against it and closing my eyes.

“Why do you ask?” Rainy replies, her voice shaky.

“Da man say dat to Chelly,” my heart races, I hadn’t noticed that she had woken.

“Well… a Papa, is someone that is loving, kind, they help protect their babies and they can because their helpful and strong, they love their babies, like I love you.”

“Is da man yous Papa too?” Sarah asks a while later, making me smile.

“No…” Rainy answered carefully.

“Only Chellys Papa?”

“No… Chris is your Papa too.”

Your Papa too. Always.

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two songs were very inspirational in writing this chapter. 

1. Staind - Zoe Jane 

2. Plumb - In My Arms 

ugh, I'm so sleepy, it's shorter but I'll update later again after going to bed :)

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