>Mallory
The fluorescent lights of the hospital always made me feel exposed—like every insecurity I had in my heart and the burden of those sleepless night was suddenly on display for the everyone to see.
Asher sat in the corner of the child psychologist's playroom, his small hands balled so tightly that his knuckles looked pale. His eyes darted everywhere, face was laced with fear. I swallowed dry.
"Asher," I whispered gently, kneeling a safe distance away. "Sweetheart, the doctor just wants to talk to you. It's okay."
It wasn't okay.
He was already holding his breath, his little chest rising and falling too fast, the way he always did when he felt overwhelmed.
Dr. Liora, the child psychologist, sat on a small stool with a clipboard resting on her lap. She was kind, younger than I expected, with soft brown curls tied neatly at her nape. She kept her voice low, almost like she was talking to a frightened animal she didn't want to spook.
