Page 72 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

“Don’t be blaming your mother for this.”

“I’m not,” Rosie said. “This is your doing. This is low, even for you. I …”

“Now, now, Rosie. This isn’t the time for blame. We’re doing what we believe is for the best, for our daughter … for you …”

“Bullshit,” said Rosie, forgetting herself and who she was talking to.

“See?” her father said. “This is exactly what we mean. You’re different now. You’d have never spoken to us like this before.”

“I am different.” She was nodding even to herself. Different didn’t always mean bad. She liked different. She loved how she felt.

“It's like we don’t even know you anymore.”

“You’ve never known me.” The words seemed to render her father silent for a moment so she added, “You can’t make me go home. I’m not a child.”

“As you can see from the letter, we can.”

“And what will you do? Lock me away?” The papers had fallen to the floor, but she didn’t need to hold them to see what they said.

“Perhaps that would be for your own good. Doctor Munro said she’d be happy to see you again.”

Rosie stood. She picked up the papers and took them over to the chest of drawers where she placed them and stared at the words as if they might be ready to knock the breath from her again. Even now, it was hard to read them. Her eyes had blurred, but not in tears or sorrow.

“You’ll be able to come home, and Dr Munro can release you into our care again.”

“Like it did me any good the first time?” She bit her words off, not meaning for that to come out. Now was not the time to rehash the past. Keep going forward — one step and then another. “I’m staying here. You can do what you like. You can send me all the bullshit papers you want, but I am not coming home.”

She was about to hang up on him because there was nothing left to say.

“Your documents will be up for review soon.”

“You wouldn't …”

The threat was there in his words. She had a license to work abroad.

“A father would do anything to keep his daughter safe, no matter how much it would make her hate him. We’re at the Beaumont Hotel. I’ll give you till tomorrow evening to have your affairs in order.” Her father hung up then, leaving her alone with her papers, with her anger. She wanted to swipe her hand across them and send them flying. She tried to push them away and deny they existed.

Run away … they could run away.

William chose the best time to message her. The text sound made her jump. “I’m on my way back,” the message said.

Quickly, she stuffed the papers into the envelope as if there was some miraculous way William could see what they said.

“Undeclared mental health issues.” The words swam.

“Ready to get this tree?” Another message from William. He’d added xx at the end of it.

“Can’t wait xx,” she replied.

Mark had given William his card. It was sitting on the table beside the bed. He was a solicitor, right? She grabbed the card and garbled out a text message to him. Not that she had any idea what to say. Help, my parents are nuts? She wasn't sure that would cut it.

“Are you free to give me some legal advice? Alone?” She put in his number and pressed send.

A text message came back almost right away from Mark Shaw. “Who is this?”

“It’s Rosie. Sorry.”

“Rosie? I have space later this week.”

---