As I sat on the plane, the hum of the engines barely registered above the roar of my thoughts. My mind was a vortex of scenarios, each more horrifying than the last. I replayed Emma’s tear-streaked voice over and over, every word she uttered cutting deeper than the last. My maternal instincts were in overdrive, urging me to protect my child at all costs. I clenched my fists, determined to be her sanctuary against the tempest that swirled around her.
The seatbelt sign blinked off, but I remained motionless, staring blankly at the seatback in front of me. I thought back to the last time I had seen Emma, her bright smile lighting up the dimmest of rooms. She was my sunbeam, my heartbeat. The very thought of her being caught in this maelstrom was unbearable. Yet, here I was, trapped in a metal tube hurtling through the sky, feeling every mile of the distance that separated us like a knife sliding between my ribs.
My call for help had been answered swiftly. It was David, my brother, who had once been my rock during the hardest days of my life. We had drifted apart when his job took him to the other coast, but his voice, steady and reassuring, was like a balm to my frayed nerves. He promised to be at the airport when I landed, ready to support me in whatever action we needed to take.
