Page 89 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

I’d never made that mistake again.

Swallowing hard, breath now sawing into my lungs, I snatched my keys off the counter and shoved them into my pocket.

When I got back to my room, I gathered my jacket, Anleigh’s jacket, and a lot of blankets.

Then I ran out of the house with her.

I nearly killed myself twice as I slipped and slid my way to the car.

When I got inside after strapping Anleigh in, I started the car, then shoved my hands into my pockets to warm them up.

My bare, frozen fingers brushed a piece of paper, and I pulled it out.

The manly scrawl of a man’s name, address, and telephone number stared at me from the bright yellow Post-it.

And for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about that address.

It was just off of Main Street, in the newly renovated downtown area where the luxury apartments were built out of the old downtown shops off of Miner Street.

I went to three stores before I found one that was open.

I bought the medication with my last ten dollars, then shoved it into the pocket of my new jacket.

My fingers once again brushed the Post-it.

When I got to the exit, I moved until I was in front of the bench that rested just inside the door, and sat Anleigh, her bear, and her blanket down.

She looked at me miserably.

“Let me get you some medicine, baby,” I said to her.

I ripped open the box and pulled the syringe out of its plastic wrap. Seconds later I was pulling up the recommended dose and giving it to her.

Anleigh was unlike any other baby I’d ever met.

She’d always taken medication well. Even the daycare had commented on it.

The doctors loved seeing her because she never complained about anything. Not shots. Not the doctors examining her. Not even the wait in the office before we saw them.

She was literally the best baby I could’ve ever asked for.

I went back home, and the moment that I pulled up in front of the house, a feeling of utter wrongness filled me.

I knew if I went into that house today, something would go wrong.

Something bad.

And with Anleigh as sick as she was…

I looked at Anleigh, leaning her head miserably against the car seat at my back, and looked back at the house.

I could faintly see the outline of my father sitting on the couch through the sheer living room curtains.

I moved my gaze from him to the bedroom that Anleigh and I shared.

And suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

Chapter

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