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When you’re the mother of a magical girl, you’re thankful every morning you wake up and find her asleep in her room. I would never tell Tessa I check, she’d never forgive me for it, but I can’t help it. I have to know she’s still there. The CDD, they make sure to set you up with a support group when it happens so you’re not going through raising a magical girl all alone, but even with that my husband and I were strung thin. At first, you’re excited, your girl will be set for life. But you always know in the back of your mind that you could get the dreaded call any day. So when the phone rang at 4AM, it was all I could do to pick up. I knew what it meant. I knew. There was only one thing it could have been. “I’m sorry, we did everything we could, please come to the hospital for your daughter.” I cried in my husband’s arms that night.
We couldn’t see her until the morning. It was the longest four hours of my life. I was already mourning, already thinking that I would have to identify my daughter’s body. The doctors were so kind and considerate, assuring me they had tried their best but there was no way to fix what had happened. But when they showed me to her room, I cried. It was awful, all her friends were dead, my friends had lost their children, but I felt such *relief*. My girl, my baby girl, she was still alive. She was back to being my girl again, back to the same brown-haired daughter I’d had before. And she was done with that dangerous business. I never had to worry about her ever again.