“Hannah!” I choked out, the name tearing raw from my throat as I lunged across the room.
I scooped Owen up into my arms. He felt terrifyingly light, his skin burning hot to the touch and dry as parchment. The poor little guy was severely dehydrated, his lips cracked and peeling. He gave a pathetic, wheezing whimpering sound against my chest, nuzzling blindly into my shirt as if searching for a drop of moisture that hadn't existed for hours.
“Hannah, baby, look at me!” I dropped to my knees beside the bed, cradling Owen in one arm while reaching out to shake Hannah’s shoulder with the other. Her skin felt like ice. Her body gave a slight, shuddering jerk, but her eyelids fluttered uselessly. She couldn't even summon the strength to focus her eyes on my face.
“Ethan…?” her voice was barely a dry rattle, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. “You… you came back…”
“I’m here. I’m right here,” I stammered, panic finally taking full control of my body as I realized the horrific reality of what had happened while I was away. My mother and sister hadn’t just neglected her; they had deliberately starved and abandoned her, locking her away upstairs while they slept and watched television downstairs.
I looked down at Hannah’s arms as I reached up to brush the matted hair from her forehead.