Isaiah 14:12

•Jeremiah 49:17•

     Jeremiah 49:17- "Edom will become an object of horror; everyone who passes by it will be horrified and will hiss at all its wounds."

           {•Unedited•}
                           ~Sin's POV~

          I wake up in the morning to sound of Eve crying in the nursery. Groaning, I toss my arm over to the side, expecting to feel Davina next to me. Panic washes over me until I hear her voice trying soothe Eve. Without the covers on I'm freezing. I stop by the thermostat before going into the nursery.
     Davina stands with her back to me, bouncing up and down to try to get Eve to stop crying. The backs of her legs and arms are covered in dark bruises and there's marks on the back of her thighs from broken blood vessels. There's burn around her ankles wrists. The cut on her arm from...I don't actually is covered up in gauss and medical tape.
      "Please stop," she stays to herself, knowing Eve can't understand her request. I straighten up from my position leant again the doorframe. She turns around, eyes watery with tears. My posture changes from relaxed to defensive in seconds. As I get closer to extends our daughter out to me.
    I do the same actions as she was, rubbing her back gently until her cries fade. Davvy drops down into the pink rocking chair next to her bed, letting out a sob. I lay Eve down in her crib, praying to god she won't start crying again but I'm gotten her to calm down.
     Kneeling in front of Vina, my hands rest on her bruised knees. Her body shakes as she lets herself empty out her emotions. I stay quiet for a few minutes, mentally working out a plan to see her smile but I come up with nothing. I'd do anything to hear her musical laugh that was the first thing I fell in love with...actually, second; the first were her eyes.
     "You can talk to me, Angel," I tell her. It's in that moment I realize that she might not think I'm someone who can trust anymore. If it hadn't been for me she wouldn't have been taken and out through that hell. My name was attached to the situation, a name she didn't even know about. The thought of them trying to force information out of her makes my blood boil.
         "I can't hold her," she mumbles sadly, looking towards the crib. I reach up and rub her arm, I try thinking of something to comfort her but nothing comes to mind. I knew there would be tears with her return, but not nothing but tears. Evette, she didn't even know her own mother. The thought saddens me beyond belief. "I've tried holding her so many times this morning and she just cries. She would stop when I put her down and then when y-you-you grabbed her. Not to mention, Emmy still doesn't know I'm home."
     "She does," I tell her. She picks her head up, face puffy from crying. Standing, I pick her up as gently as I can to replace her seat and set her in my lap. She nuzzles her face in the crook of my neck, wiping her tears away. "I talked to her last night after you fell asleep. She's confused, she's going to be for a while. You don't have to say or do anything until you're ready."
    "What-what if she's mad at me for leaving?" The thought has crossed my mind. She was hurt the time before when we broke up in October. Everyone is going to have to readjust. "I feel sick," she says, starting to get up. Her legs are shaky in her way to the bathroom. I get up, grabbing one of Eve's teddies for bed and going to the bathroom.
      Davina leans over the toilet, holding her hair back with one hand while the other holds her stomach. I kneel down, rubbing her back. She coughs violently, resting her forehead against her arm. I wad up some toilet paper and hand it to her for her to wipe her mouth off.
    Helping her up, she leans her body against me for support. Her skin looks as if she wiped grey chalk all over her face. She holds onto the sink as she opens the cabinet. Knowing it hurts to move her arms I take out her toothbrush and  apply the toothpaste. It takes her a few times because every time the taste met her tongue she would get sick.
      Holding her against me and holding her hand I help her back to the nursery, sitting her in the rocking chair. She takes shaky breaths, her red eyes glossy with tears. Standing over her I play with her hair, listening to her hum
in response. She doesn't look in the mood to talk and I'm not going to force her.
     I was prepared to march into that place all business as usual, ready to get her back, bring her back home, and question her to know everything that happened. But instead I fucking ran in there as if I lost my mommy in a store and was scared to be lost. I can't bring myself to ask a single thing because of how broken she looks.
     Her exhausted eyes find their way up to mine, red and threatening to close. "Is Emmy mad at me?" She asks, her voice cracking. I shake my head, cupping the side of neck.
   "Like I said, she's just confused. I never wanted to scare her, so telling her the truth was never an option. If she asked we just said you were sick and had to go away for awhile."
   "She probably thinks I died or something!" She exclaims in horror. I smile, missing the way she worried about the small things. My fingers trace over the long cut on her right arm. There another on her left side going all the way from the side of her ribs to the bottom of her hip bone.
    "Not that type of sick. I don't think she ever believed us," I finish telling her. She leans into my touch, resting her hand over mine. Eve starts babbling in the crib, looking our direction while saying "dada."   
      ••••••
                        ~Davina's POV~