Chapter 3
The ICU hummed with the steady rhythm of machines, casting a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped the small, fragile child lying in the hospital bed. Severus Snape stood at her side, his gaze fixed on her pale face as he pondered the mysteries that surrounded her.
Weeks had passed since her arrival, and still, the child remained trapped in a world of her own making, her silence a barrier that seemed impossible to breach. But Severus refused to give up hope, his determination unyielding as he continued to care for her with unwavering dedication.
As he studied her, Severus couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story than met the eye. The haunted shadows that flickered behind her eyes spoke of a pain too deep for words, a trauma that had left scars both seen and unseen.
"You don't have to carry this burden alone," Severus murmured, his voice a gentle caress in the silence of the room. "Whatever happened to you, you're safe now."
But the child remained silent, her eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the hospital room. Severus sighed, his frustration mounting as he struggled to break through the walls she had built around herself.
And then, one day, as he sat by her bedside, lost in his own thoughts, a soft whimper broke the silence, drawing Severus's attention back to the child before him. He watched as she shifted restlessly, her brow furrowed in distress as she began to toss and turn.
"Shh, it's alright," Severus murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within her. "I'm here, you're safe."
But the child's distress only seemed to grow, her movements becoming more frantic as she grappled with some unseen terror. Severus felt his heart clench with compassion as he reached out to comfort her, his hands gentle as he brushed the hair from her forehead.
And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, the child spoke, her words a fragmented echo of a past long forgotten.
"No," she whispered, her voice raw with pain. "Please NOT."
Severus froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened to the child's words. There was a story here, he realized, a story that begged to be told.