Page 6 of Fearless Sinner

And I was also in love with a man who would later prove to be my destruction.

Mom tried to warn me about Nate but I thought I knew better than her.

Today, as I stand here, I can admit my mother was right.

She was right when she told me the world wasn’t as easy to live in as I thought, and I didn’t know everything.

She was right when she told me Nate would break my heart.

And she was right when she told me everything would be so much harder in L.A.

I might not have agreed with her but I didn’t have to disrespect her the way I did and, worst of all, cut her off.

If nothing else, I could have just accepted that she was only telling me what she thought was best because she loved me.

The door across from me opens and Dr. Chase walks in. He offers me a look of sympathy when he sees me with my hand near Mom’s. He’s probably wondering why I’m still here.

It was he who called me to break the news, so he knows the journey I took to get here, and that I’ve been up all night.

Dr. Chase reminds me of my father. He also looks like he’s in his late fifties, like Dad was when he died.

“I’ve just come to check on your mom.” He moves closer with a kind smile lifting the ends of his mustache. He stops at the foot of the bed and looks from my mother’s frail form to me. “I was hoping you’d gone home.”

“Not yet.”

“You should get some rest.”

“I was worried. I just want to stay in case anything happens.” I’m very aware that I could have received a different sort of phone call. One telling me that I’d never see my mom alive again.

“I understand completely. How about you go home for a few hours. I’ll give you my cellphone number so you can call and check on her at any time. Then you can come back later.”

I consider the offer. Having his cellphone number would make me feel better. “Okay. Thank you. I won’t stay away too long, though.”

“Just make sure you get some sleep.” His focus drifts back to Mom. “Patients in a coma can sense when things aren’t right around them. If we can take care of ourselves it helps them to focus on getting better.”

His advice is good. I’ve heard something like that before. But how do I explain that my mother would probably be agitated just knowing I’m here? It’s best she doesn’t know just yet.

“Alright. I’ll get some sleep. Anything to help her.” I nod at Mom.

“Good.” He walks over and hands me a business card. “Call me if you need me. I mean that.”

“Thank you so much.” I take the card and slide it inside my jeans pocket.

When I grab my bag, I feel guilty because I’m leaving her again.

But this time I’ll be back.

I leave the room. As I walk down the hallway I feel like a zombie extra from the 28 Days Later movie.

I’ve had minimal sleep over the last few months as I’ve tried to work hard to earn as much money as possible to come home.

There was the waitressing job and the odd shifts I got dancing at the gentleman’s club. Those jobs paid the most. Thankfully, I never had to strip, but I knew how to use a pole and the men liked the look of me in the barely-there outfits I was given to wear.

I head outside and hail a taxi.

I get into the first one that stops for me and give the driver the address of the home I haven’t called mine in so long it hurts.

We set off then my phone starts ringing. When I look at it I see it’s April, my therapist.

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