I grabbed a small sponge on a stick, dipped it in ice water, and gently swabbed his cracked lips. “Don’t try to talk too much, baby. Just rest.”
But Ethan shook his head, a weak, desperate movement. He reached up with a trembling hand and grabbed the fabric of my shirt. He pulled me closer.
I leaned in, my ear just inches from his lips.
“Mom…” Ethan rasped, his small chest heaving with the effort.
“I’m here, baby,” I whispered back.
His next words didn’t just break my heart; they stopped it completely.
“…Grandma is why I got hurt.”
The blood drained entirely from my face. The room seemed to tilt on its axis. The rhythmic beeping of the machines suddenly sounded like a warning siren.
“What do you mean, baby?” I asked, my voice barely a breath. “The police said you fell off your bike riding down the hill. Did Grandma startle you?”
Ethan closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his bruised cheek. He swallowed hard, wincing in pain.
“No,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a terror that cut me to the bone. “I wasn’t on my bike, Mom. Grandma made me climb the tall metal ladder… the one from the garage.”
“The ladder? Why?” I asked, my mind struggling to comprehend.
“To hang Aunt Sophie’s heavy birthday banner over the patio,” Ethan cried softly. “I told her it was wobbly. I told her I was scared it was going to fall. But she said… she said I was being a baby. She told me to stop whining and hurry up before the caterers got there.”
