Page 125 of Psychotic Obsession
The little girl who gavemethe drive to continue, fighting every single day even after her body started to give up, she's...walking.
My mind is moving in slow motion. After years of physiotherapy and treatment for her symptoms, the trials stretched out for three years, saving her, she's here...and she'sreallywalking.
I glance at Ewan over my shoulder. His eyes are wide, and even Jason has his hand over his mouth. They know how important this moment is for me.
As soon as she reaches me, I drop to my knees in astonishment, my hand clasped to my forehead,completelylost for words as she straightens her arms, handing me the large bouquet of flowers.
Using every ounce of strength in her fragile body, she wraps her arms around me, making it all worth it.
"Mommy, where are we going?"Luciella asks as she skips alongside me.
"To see our father, stupid," Kade replies to her in a bratty tone. When I narrow my eyes on him, he shakes his head. “She’s asked like a thousand times, Mom.”
“She was only asking. She’s excited.”
I roll my eyes at the five-year-old twins who couldn't be any more different from each other.
Lu—Luciella–is a miniature version of myself, with curly, platinum blonde hair, dark blue eyes, a few freckles on her face, polite and sweet.
Then, there's Kade. He looks exactly like his father, with dark hair, blue eyes, dimples, longer lashes than anyone I know. While his looks and sometimes boisterous attitude might come from Tobias, everything else comes from Ewan. I mean, I guess he has been the one to raise him from birth, so it's only natural.
The sun is beaming down on us as we walk hand in hand. Annoyingly, the press is here, like they always are when one of the workers leaks I’m visiting. This time, with the kids with me, I want to yell at them to give us some privacy.
Kade lifts his middle finger to them.
This is their first visit with him. After years of therapy and isolation, he finally got accepted for face-to-face visitation once a month. It has taken a lot for me to give in. Ewan and I had a lot of talks with the kids, trying to prepare them. I'm nervous, having Tobias out in an open space, around us, but several psychiatrists and doctors have certified that, with close security, he is allowed to spend one supervised hour with his children.
There's only so much I could do to prepare five-year-olds for this, but going by the video calls, I reckon they'll be fine. However, I won't put them in a position they aren't comfortable with, so if they appear on edge or want to leave, then we will.
If Tobias steps out of line, intentionally sabotages his meds, or gets into any sort of trouble, any contact with me will be cut. Ever since he was given the all-clear for visits under good behaviour, he hasn't stepped out of line once. The specialists at his mental institution even say he's like a different person, all things considered.
His lawyer is still in contact. Mr. Vize was his defense, managing to stop Tobias from getting the death penalty and securing a plea deal of insanity, saving his life. The next appeal is in a year, this time to have him transferred closer to home. So far, I don’t see it going well, especially since Mr. Vize just adopted two kids and has been working on fewer cases.
The first year of his sentence, I didn't hear a word from Tobias, making me wonder if I'd ever see him again. But when he finally was taken off suicide watch and underwent numerous therapies, the specialists started to notice a change.
They were able to break through the cracks of his mind games. Tobias feared the idea of being heavily medicated, of being a vessel, but he's the complete opposite, as if his daily treatment suppresses the evil I experienced first-hand.
The first time I saw him after so long was two years ago, and I felt my heart stop. His once ocean blue eyes were sunken in, dark purple bags under them. He was thin, the handcuffs sliding up and over his elbows. No words were spoken; he just sat opposite the glass pane, staring at me, drinking me in after so long, ignoring me as I tried to speak until he was taken away an hour later.
His mom is serving an eight-year sentence for aiding a criminal, and that's all I know or care to know. Justin is dead, and Tobias took the fall for it to protect me.
Over the last month, in an attempt to prepare the kids to see Tobias, we were granted video calls for half an hour every two weeks, his therapist staying glued to his side. I could see his eyes light up each time they laughed or asked him ridiculous questions. I knew that, at times, he was staring at me. I could see the way his throat bobbed, and his fingers fidgeted every time I smiled.
After we check-in and have been searched, we follow the receptionist down a long corridor filled with windows that look out to the family area, the kids still arguing over who gets to hug him first. My eyes widen at how beautiful the place really is. There's artificial grass, trees, benches, a small pond, and sandboxes for the kids.
My heart nearly drops when I see him sitting at a picnic table with his back to us. A young woman is next to him, pointing around them while he nods. I can see the muscles have built back up along his shoulders, his sun-kissed arms leaning against the wooden table.
The guard searches me one last time before swiping his badge, the first set of doors sliding open. "You have one hour, and if there are any suspicious activities or sexual contact, you will be removed, and visitation privileges will be revoked."
I try not to frown at the sexual contact comment while I look between the kids then back up at him with a raised brow.
He talks into his radio, telling whoever it is that Tobias Mitchell's visitation begins in three...two...one.
The second door opens, and his head snaps in our direction, lips parting. He looks better. He looks well, healthy.
The kids try to pull from my hands as we make our way to him. "Are they allowed to hug him?" I ask the therapist,who nods and lifts her paperwork, resting her hand on Tobias' shoulder before going to join one of the guards.
I’m about to let go of their hands, but I can see Tobias is nervous, so I hold them tighter. For a split second, I look between them as they stare at him, Kade moving behind my leg. Luciella glances up at me with a smile, her finger in her mouth.
