PART 15 – I Remembered the Night in Small Pieces, and Every Time I Reached the Dining Room in My Memory, I Thought About the Camera

I kept remembering the beginning.

The bedroom doorway.

The small figure standing there.

Lily's damp hair.

Her hand pressed against her stomach.

I remembered how she had tried to explain the pain.

At the time, I hadn't understood her words.

Now they seemed painfully clear.

She had been trying to tell me that something was wrong inside her body.

I remembered lifting her.

I remembered checking her forehead.

I remembered how she cried when I tried to put her down.

Those details were fixed in my mind.

I could replay them whenever I closed my eyes.

But the hours before that moment were harder to reconstruct.

I couldn't remember every movement in the house.

I couldn't remember every conversation.

And I couldn't know what had happened when I wasn't looking.

That was what frightened me.

I had believed our home was safe.

I had believed that the people around Lily were people who loved her.

Now I was being asked to consider the possibility that someone had deliberately put dangerous objects inside her.

I couldn't accept that easily.

But I couldn't ignore it either.

The officers needed to establish the facts.

I had already told them about the camera.

I wanted them to examine the recording rather than rely on assumptions.

Daniel sat nearby.

He had become quieter.

I wondered whether he was thinking about what I had said.

I didn't ask.

I didn't want another argument.

Patricia was also there.

She occasionally looked toward the medical area.

I couldn't tell what she was thinking.

I wanted to believe that we were all waiting for the same thing.

Lily's recovery.

The truth.

Some kind of explanation.

But I couldn't forget the way they had treated me when they first arrived.

Daniel had shouted.

Patricia had cried.

And I had been left trying to explain why I couldn't possibly know how thirty-six magnets had entered my daughter's body.

I rubbed my hands together.

They were cold.

I thought about the surgeon's explanation again.

More than a day.

That period mattered.

I wanted the officers to consider it when examining the information from our home.

I didn't know exactly what the footage would show.

I didn't want to decide what it meant before anyone had watched it.

I only wanted the recording handled properly.

I had no reason to hide it.

I had brought it to the officers' attention myself.

That fact mattered to me.

I wasn't trying to control the investigation.

I was trying to help it.

Eventually, I asked again whether there was any update about Lily.

I was told that she remained under medical care.

I nodded.

I wished I could hear her voice.

Even if she was crying.

Even if she was asking for something.

I wanted to hear her call me Mommy.

I wanted to sit beside her and tell her that I was there.

The blanket remained folded nearby.

I picked it up and held it for a moment.

It still reminded me of the drive.

The quiet roads.

The rearview mirror.

Lily's small voice from the back seat.

I didn't know how much time would pass before she felt like herself again.

I only knew that she had survived the operation.

For that, I was grateful.

But gratitude didn't erase the questions.

I wanted to know what had happened.

And I wanted the investigation to continue until the facts were clear.

Click here to continue reading: PART 16: I Had Given the Officers the Location of the Recording, and I Was No Longer Willing to Let Anyone Replace Evidence With Accusations