I groan, trying to move but I can’t.
The images flash through my head.
My father holding me down. Beep.
His fist. Beep.
The dogs. Beep.
I go backward in time.
My mother dying. Beep.
I want to stay there. They’re so happy. He holds her, and she holds me. Beep.
She’s on the ground. Beep.
She won’t wake up. Beep.
I scream out for her.
My head shakes and I try to move again, feeling closer to consciousness, becoming more aware of my body, but it’s so heavy.
I shake her shoulders, trying to get her to wake up. Mom! I scream out. Mom!
The sound of my father’s boots. The sound of the toolbox that crashes to the ground as he runs into the room.
My throat feels raw as I cry out again. Beep.
He pushes me out of the way.
No! Mom! Beep.
My shoulders shake as I watch him leaning over her.
Small hands shake me, but they aren’t in the room with me.
Father! Help her! Beep.
His cold gaze finds me, his hands still holding Mom, but when he looks back at me, I can’t cry out anymore. I can’t speak.
His eyes are like ice as he sneers at me. What did I do? Why is he blaming me? I didn’t do anything. I swear I didn’t.
“Jay!” I hear a voice scream, and my eyes part slowly. My groggy head sways and I try to blink. The bright lights hurt though. My wrists sting as I pull upward, but they won’t move. It takes a moment as my head lolls to the side to realize I’m in the hospital. Sedated and restrained.
“Jay,” I hear her soft voice and vaguely feel her hands on mine. I turn my hand slightly and she laces her small fingers with mine. My little bird. I’ve held her hand so many times. Her hand belongs in mine. Everything’s okay then. That’s all I need to know that everything’s okay.
Robin, my little bird.
She brought me here.
I expect anger, I expect to hate her. Instead I only feel weak and helpless. The pain in her voice is what does it. I’ve hurt her. I’ll do anything, my little bird. Don’t leave me. Not here, and not ever.
Slowly, the memories come back.
All twenty years and more.
My Robin. My sweet Robin.
