HIDING - every scar has a story

31. Everything that's wrong with this family.

{Cary}

Cary was carrying the baby and she was cold. He couldn't find her blankets—he looked for them everywhere, hurrying. Jesus was after them. Cary was terrified and desperate with hope at the same time. Jesus was going to rip his heart out. He hoped he would have enough breath left to see his sister alive in Jesus' arms again before the end.

He jerked awake at a 'tap' on his door. His room was light—it was morning. His mother slipped into his room.

"Cary? Are you awake?"

He pushed sleep and the nightmare away with effort, sitting up. "Yuh. You can turn on the light."

She was wearing her Sunday clothes and holding Liam in her arms. "Is he home?" Cary said.

She nodded. "In the conservatory. I think he was up all night."

Cary registered the rise and fall of piano music coming from the downstairs. He shoved his blankets back. "Okay, I'm up."

Beverly looked at him strangely. "Do you always sleep in your clothes?"

Cary took Liam out of her arms without answering. His heart thudded in his chest at the feel of Liam's soft weight. "He's growing."

She smiled. "Don't drop him." He shot her a look and she held up a hand. "Just teasing." She set the diaper bag on his desk. "There's a bottle and diapers in there. He just woke up, so he'll need to eat in a few minutes."

Cary held Liam tightly. "Okay." He tried on one of Jon's reassuring smiles. "See you in a bit."

She threw a smile over her shoulder as she left. She was right, he could hardly see the bruise.

He left the door open a crack behind her. If it was shut, his father would push it open to see what he was trying to hide. Laying the baby on his bed, he dug in the diaper bag to mix a bottle. His hands shook. He clenched them against his chest and closed his eyes.

I don't want to hurt him. Please please let him not be hurt.

He didn't know who he thought he was talking to. The man with the scars was in his mind, holding the baby girl. Jesus would know how to do this. Cary took a breath, made the bottle, and cradled Liam to feed him.

Liam was still hungry when the bottle was empty. He fussed, gumming his fist. When he lost it, he waved his fists and fussed louder. Cary walked his brother around his room, rubbing his back and jiggling him up and down. He even tried singing what he could remember of 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.' That made Liam start to cry for real.

There was no more formula in the bag. He checked the nursery—there was nothing there. Liam was red-faced from crying, burrowing against Cary's shoulder.

Cary swore softly. The can of formula was downstairs in the kitchen cupboard. He touched Liam's head, stroking his dark, silky hair. "Okay, we'll get some more. Don't cry. Please don't cry."

He rooted around in Liam's crib and found a soother. Liam sucked it hard, sniffling quietly in the hallway and down the stairs. Cary got a breath into his tight chest.

The sound of the piano was loud on the main floor, crashing around the high ceilings. The baby startled and started to cry again before they made it to the kitchen. Cary worked as fast as he could with Liam in his arms, trying to measure formula into the bottle with one hand. He was making a mess, but that didn't matter right now. His ears were full of the din of Liam's cries; he didn't hear the piano stop.

He put the bottle in Liam's mouth and the cries cut out. Instant relief.

*Trigger warning lovelies, scroll for a brief summary.*