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How the fuck do I even feel this fierce love for him, a kid I don’t even know? But I do, and there’s a connection so strong I can’t breathe.

With it comes fucking fear. What if I mess this up? What if he’s hurt somehow because of me? Terror rips through me.

I stand and stumble back, rubbing my chest. With deep breaths, I manage to sit on the armchair next to him, and I watch him. He’s perfect, real, and mine.

But I’ve no idea where to start with this kid. Sasha’s two, and I’m a stranger. He’s going to be very attached to his mother. That’s a given. She’s all he knows. And she clearly loves him and cares for him with the utmost reverence. I’m guessing they’re each other’s worlds.

And I’m…

Nothing.

A fucking stranger. One who burst in and made him and his mom cry.

A monster.

The bad man.

Christ, this kid’s gonna be hysterical when he wakes to me and not his mom. Worse when he discovers she’s gone. He might reject me.

I clench my fist.

There’s no way I’m punishing a small child for not knowing me, for not wanting me. But I am, I guess, going to punish him by proxy by keeping her from him. Because I sure as fuck am going to punish Erin. She has to fucking pay for keeping my child from me. Essentially stealing him.

I’m aware this line is completely unreasonable, but I really don’t care. It’s how I feel.

Because how fucking dare she do this? He’s mine.Mine.

A soft sound draws my attention and I look up. Sasha’s awake. He lets out a small grizzle. “Mama.” And then, “Goat.”

He looks about and his mouth quivers.

“Mama?” He starts to cry. “Mama!”

He sees me and starts screaming.

“Hey Sasha,” I say as soothingly as I can as I go to him.

The boy shrinks back and his screams and sobs get louder. “Mama! Mama! I want Mama!”

He’s scared of me.

I reach for him and his hysteria reaches such heights I’m worried for his safety. His face is brick red and his screams and sobs are full of water and snot. I’m not even sure he’s breathing.

What the fuck do I do? His screams get worse and panic sets in.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” And I just stand there because if I move toward him, he’ll just get worse.

“What the hell…” Alina says above the noise.

I turn and for a moment I can’t breathe either. She’s blotchy, her face swollen, and she and Sasha could take their act on the road, they’re both so grief-stricken, though his is more tantrum and fear than grief.

“Mama!” Sasha’s eyes latch on Alina and there’s a flash of something like recognition, and he holds out his arms.

She shoots me a look and then scoops up the toddler. “Hi, Sasha. It’s okay, it’s okay. Mama’s asleep. I’m Alina, I’m here…”

“Dino,” he says between sobs. “I want Mama.”

“How are you feeling?” I ask her.