On the Run [a.i. au]

20. For the Love of a Daughter

Thalia's POV

My eyes meet three familiar pairs, and the oxygen is practically pulled from my lungs.

After more than four months, I'm staring into the face of the people known as my family.

But something's different. It doesn't feel whole or completely satisfying.

As my little brother runs to my bed and throws his arms around me, I realize why.

"Michael," I choke, my eyes becoming glossy with tears yet again. I press my lips to his forehead, trying to hold on to the fact that Michael Moore and Michael Clifford are two different people.

Then why does it hurt so badly? Why does it feel like I lost a brother when I lost someone I barely knew that just so happened to share a name with my baby brother?

As my brother's eyes connect with mine, my chest throbs in pain as I realize why losing Michael hurts so bad.

I love them the same way. They're the boys in my life that I treasure; that feel like family.

"I thought I would never see you again!" Mike cries out as he squeezes me tighter. He's a lot stronger than I remember.

Next, Macie sits on the edge of my bed, hugging me almost as tightly as her twin. Her hand brushes my wound, making me wince.

"Sorry," she mumbles as a tear slides down her cheek. "I just missed you so much."

"I missed you guys, too," I say as I pull them into a hug. "So much."

My mum walks over to me, her short blonde curls tickling my face as she presses her lips to my cheek. "I'll never be able to thank God enough for finding you."

Swallowing hard, I give her a nod and shut my eyes. I can't cry again. Not in front of my family. I've done enough of that today.

I hear someone clear their throat, and I catch everyone in the room turn to my father.

"C-can I have a minute with her?" He asks quietly, eyes shifting to the detective and doctors. "I haven't seen her in a long time."

As Dr. Shepherd nods, my whole body freezes in fear. If I felt like I could protest, I would. Words just can't form in my mouth as I gaze at my dad.

My dad meets my mum's eyes, and she gives him a nod before exiting the room with my brother and sister.

As soon as the door shuts, my dad finally looks me straight in the face. He doesn't move, and neither do I. We just stare at each other, waiting for someone to make the next move.

Slowly, he walks toward me. His footsteps echo along the seemingly hollow floor, the sound pounding into my skull.

Swallowing, almost nervously, he sits on the left side of my bed. He shifts his gaze to my stomach, where my bandage is clearly exposed.

My dad gasps, startling me to the point where I jump. I wince and clench my teeth as the searing pain takes over my abdomen.

"Thalia," Dad whispers. "Y-you were actually..."

Nodding, I cut him off. He doesn't need to say it. I've already faced too many other facts about my body today. I'm well aware that a bullet was in my stomach.

"When Davis told us you were here, he said you had been in surgery, but I didn't believe..." he trails off again. "This is all my fault..."

I sit there motionless. Part of me wants to reply, but I don't even know what to say to him.

Is it really all his fault?

Four months ago, I would've said yes. After all, he was the one who wanted me gone that night and had bruised me more times than I could count on my hands and feet.