Page 78 of Retribution
They are doing their best, the three of them. Trying to understand, trying to include me. Trying to hide their whispers of worry and concern over my mental well-being. I’m staying in my grandparent’s house, in the room which was once my mother’s. I think they were hoping that doing so might make me feel closer to her, to reconnect with my past.
It isn’t working. If anything, I think it’s making it worse, but how can I tell them that? “Sorry, Grandma, but staying in my dead mother’s childhood room isn’t really doing it for me?” Yeah, I’m sure that would go over well.
They watch me with concern and fear in their eyes—this missing grandchild, who has been through so much, now walks through their home like a ghost, just waiting for the day that she can join the others in death. What exactly is there to live for?
My parents—gone. My children—gone. My sisters—gone. Trey—
Tears cloud my vision as I sit on the floor, my back against the corner of the wall. My sweats are pulled down to my ankles, the razor blade leaving fine lines of grief along my thighs. For a brief moment the pain lessens, the black shadows that are my constant companions kept at bay.
But it is only a brief respite …
my lungs constrict
I can’t breathe
the pain burns through every inch of me, scouring my insides
it is unbearable, I can’t take much more
nausea swells, my throat closes
make it stop
arrows pierce my heart
please
… it all comes rushing back on a tidal wave of agony that I’m not sure I can bear much longer.
***
One Week Later
“Rebecca! No! Westley! WESTLEY!”
The warm scarlet water laps around me, the black shadows swirling, enticing. In the far distance, I hear my grandmother’s screams, the sound of sirens.
Peace envelops me for the first time in weeks. A soft hand touches my shoulder, and I turn my head to see Rachel looking down at me with so much love in her eyes. My lips curve into a tremulous smile, and I reach up with a crimson arm to stroke her face. “I love you, Mommy,” she whispers to me as tears blur my vision.
Hands grasp at me, dragging me from the balmy peacefulness. Pain slices through me, a cry tearing from my lips as Rachel fades away, her little hand waving at me.
Her name leaves my lips on a whimper as the blackness descends, drawing me under until I know no more.
***
Four Months Later
“I think you’ve made incredible progress, Rebecca,” Janet Thornberry informs me. A woman in her early fifties, she sits across from me in a navy chair, identical to the one I’m sitting on. Her office is decorated in navy, cream, and gold, and every time I’m here, it reminds me of the hotel room at the Bellagio.
A pang shoots through my chest as I remember the white roses and candles covering every inch of the room. The way he touched me, loved me, that night after we said our vows.
Turning my thoughts back to the present, I nod as Dr. Thornberry continues. “I think we can start discussing returning home on the weekends. Your aunt has expressed to me that she and your grandparents would be thrilled for you to do so, and I believe it would be best for your journey to start integrating back into a normal life.”
She pushes her glasses up her nose, her greying blonde hair tucked into a neat bun as she regards me with kind eyes. “You’ve been through so much, Rebecca. The fact that you’re sitting across from me now tells me that you are an extraordinarily strong young woman. I know that things can be bleak, that it may sometimes feel like the past has too much of a grip on us.”
Dr. Thornberry leans towards me, a soft smile playing at her lips. “If anyone can walk out of here and start over again, it’s you. I fully believe that.”
Pulling myself to my feet, I shake her hand, thanking her. Then turn and walk out the door, heading down the long corridor to where my room awaits. Miguel, one of the orderlies, says hello as I walk past, and I stop for a moment to exchange pleasantries.
