Chapter 4 - The Truth Behind the Long Sleeves
At St. Jude’s Hospital, the fluorescent lights of the emergency room were blinding. Olivia was asleep in a hospital bed, her small arms wrapped thick in sterile white gauze, IV fluids hydrating her tiny body. Jessica sat beside her, pale as a ghost, receiving topical burn treatments on her arms and neck.
I sat on the edge of Jessica's bed, holding her uninjured hand tightly, afraid that if I let go, she would vanish.
"Why didn't you tell me, Jess?" I wept quietly, tears dropping onto the clean bedsheets. "Why didn't you tell me what she was doing to you?"
Jessica looked at me, her hollow eyes filled with months of accumulated trauma. She reached up with a bandaged hand and softly touched my cheek.
"She told me that if I said a word to you, she would kill Olivia," Jessica whispered, her voice cracking. "She started putting liquid drops in my morning tea six months ago. At first, I just felt dizzy and confused. Then I couldn't remember where I put things. Every time I tried to talk to you, my brain felt like it was trapped in thick fog."
"The long sleeves..." I realized with a shudder of pure guilt.
"She burned me with steam from the iron the first time I threatened to call the police," Jessica cried softly. "She told me you knew everything. She showed me text messages on her phone—messages from your number—saying that you hated me, that you wanted me gone, and that you were giving her custody of Olivia."
"She spoofed my phone number!" I slammed my fist softly against the bedframe. "I never sent those texts! I love you, Jess! I have always loved you!"
"I know that now," Jessica sobbed, pulling me close. "When I saw you standing at the entryway today... I thought I was hallucinated again. But then I saw your tears. And I knew my husband was finally home."
Just then, Detective Marcus Vance from the Major Crimes Division knocked on the open hospital door. His face was stern, his eyes dark with heavy news.
"Mr. Ferris? Mrs. Ferris?" Detective Vance walked into the room, holding a thick manila folder. "We've spent the last three hours searching your apartment and interrogating your mother at the central precinct. What we found goes far beyond domestic abuse."
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"What do you mean?" I asked, my heart dropping into my stomach.
Detective Vance pulled out a printout of the birth certificate found in the locked drawer. "Mr. Ferris... Carmen Ferris is not your biological mother. And thirty-four years ago, she didn't adopt you either. She abducted you."
