Elisa entered the private room and placed her bag down on the chair. Dark shadows formed under her eyes from the sleepless nights. The worry, anger, and sadness made her feel tired and exhausted. She moved closer to the bed and bent down to kiss her son's forehead.

Her only son, barely 17, laid still on the hospital bed. The bruises on his body formed a stark contrast against the white sheets around him. He looked so fragile lying there.

She was about to straighten up when she noticed some movements with her son's eyelids.

"Jamie. Jamie sweetheart," she called out softly.

"Come on baby wake up. Mommy's here. You can do it baby. Wake up." She kept saying encouraging words as she ran her hands lightly on the boy's head.

The boy's bleary eyes fluttered open. But it was only for a moment for sleep claimed him back.

With a sigh she sat down on the chair beside her son's bed. She was happy they were finally seeing progress albeit it was momentary.

The doctor told her to call him again if her son wakes up.

She kept vigil every day, praying for his recovery. Every day she would cry seeing her son so pale and vulnerable, unresponsive and almost lifeless.

"Please wake up," she spoke softly afraid that the tremble in her voice could be heard.

Jamie's cheeks had sunken in the few days that he had been in the hospital. At the sight of dark purple patches, tears pooled in her eyes. The baby that she carried for ten months in her womb, the one she raised tenderly was now covered in bruises of different colors. It had mottled his face. The others were hidden under the hospital gown and could be seen at the back of his thighs, around his abdomen and on his back.

The doctor said it would still be tender but it was healing as evidenced by the yellowish color surrounding the dark parts.

The news should have soothed her aching heart but it didn't. It didn't because the fact that her baby was hurt and possibly tortured gnawed at her heart. How could they- How could they do that to her son?

"Mama and everyone misses you. Please hold on and come back to us."

She wrapped her hands around his son's hand that had an IV on it. With her two fingers she stroked his pale skin following his veins in an attempt to provide his son some relief. She did this with utmost caution as though her son's hand would break.

She didn't know if it was working on Jamie but it worked for her. It soothed her nerves. Carefully she lowered her son's hand and proceeded to massage the other.

Tired, she sat back on the chair and held her child's now warm hands. She kept another afternoon vigil at her son's bedside.

She couldn't help but recall the past days; the phone call; the moment she raced to the hospital; the days back in the ICU.