The destination I aim for everyday after work.
My family inside awaiting my arrival, planning dinner, their voices echoing off of the kitchen walls, and baby squeals travelling to meet me at the door.
A sweet welcome.
Until I see the mark.
The dental records from another chid left in my baby’s arm.
I hear Brian ask me to be calm so he can relay the information.
The world turns from shades of red to black, I picture myself growing claws out of my finger tips and sharp fang like teeth capable of ripping into any opponent.
A low growl is forming in my throat and threatening to escape as my body fights the urge to crouch into a pouncing position.
Is all I can mutter. The room is dark, a spotlight shines on the red teeth marks that appear to be pulsing on my daughters arm.
“They don’t know, she didn’t cry or make a fuss, they noticed it late in the day.”
I feel a sharp pain in my gut, someone is stabbing me, but when I look down there is no blood. My head is pounding.
I pace back and forth like a caged animal attempting to keep my composure but the red marks scream at me.
You weren’t there to protect me!
Rushing to my daughter I ask her what happened, who hurt her?
She touches my face.
My growl turns into tears.
She smiles at me and reaches for my hair.
My sharp teeth meant to cut into my prey retract.
She laughs and says “mama?”
My claws fall away and I touch her angry marks
I wasn’t there to protect her.
But she was ok.