CHAPTER 12: THE DEBT WE OWE
Three days later, Lily was resting comfortably in the pediatric recovery wing of the medical center, receiving her first rounds of treatment. Her light sensitivity was already improving; she no longer needed the dark sunglasses indoors.
Mark left the hospital room under the care of a trusted private nurse and drove out to the roadside motel on the highway.
When he knocked on Room 114, the door cracked open cautiously. Leo peered through the gap, his eyes wide and uncertain. When he saw Mark, he exhaled a heavy sigh of relief.
The room was immaculately tidy. Leo had neatly stacked the takeout containers in the trash and folded his blankets. On the small desk sat a drawing he had made with a cheap motel pen: a large oak tree with a bright, smiling sun above it.
"Is the little girl okay?" Leo asked softly, stepping aside to let Mark enter.
"She’s going to see again, Leo," Mark said, his voice thick with emotion. "Because of you."
Leo looked down at the carpet, rubbing his arm shyly. "I just... I hated seeing her stumble over the sidewalk when I knew she used to chase butterflies last spring. It wasn't fair."
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Mark sat down on the desk chair and looked at the eight-year-old boy who had survived on the scraps of an indifferent world. "Leo, I told you that nobody would ever look through you again. I meant it."
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