“Were you playing with Tyler on the stairs?” I asked, watching the way his shoulders rose.
“No.”
Mark stepped into the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind him as he leaned his back against the painted drywall.
Ethan stiffened immediately, his chin dropping another inch toward his chest.
Doctor Brooks looked from the boy to Mark, clicking her pen three times again before she made a note on her digital tablet.
“The hospital discharge date is set for Tuesday morning at nine,” she said, her eyes fixed on my face. “But I want to monitor his cognitive responses very closely until then.”
“Does he have any physical injuries other than the scalp laceration?” I asked.
“Some bruising on his left shoulder and a small abrasion on his right wrist,” she said. “The pattern is consistent with a lateral tumble, though we will know more once the full radiology report is delivered.”
“And his memory?”
“Temporary amnesia surrounding the event is common with pediatric head trauma,” Doctor Brooks said, her voice remaining gentle. “Most children recover the timeline within seventy-two hours, though some gaps can remain permanent.”
