Page 117 of Mr. Edwards
I skid to a stop by the front porch, throwing more dust and debris into the atmosphere. I’ve already removed my seat belt.
Reaching for the door handle, I leap out of the vehicle. The lot is eerily quiet. The only thing I can hear is thethump, thump, thumpingsound of my blood gushing through my ears.
This place is more rundown than I remember.
Dashing up the stairs, I fling open the screen, clutching the door handle and turning it back and forth… it’s locked.Damn.Clenching my hands into fists, I start beating on the wood. It’s so old and ratty, I’m surprised it doesn’t splinter from the sheer gravity of my blows.
“Roxy,” I call out. “Roxy, open up.”
My throat gets tight, and I can feel the tears burning the back of my eyes.No, no, no.Please tell me I’m not too late, please God, let this be a sick joke.
I move around to the side of the trailer, grabbing a discarded bucket that lies on its side by the tap. I flip it over to use as a makeshift footstep, it elevates me high enough so I can peer through the kitchen window.
My heart drops the moment her body comes into view. She’s lying face down on the shitty carpet; there have been many occasions over the years where I’ve found her passed out, just like this, but my gut tells me this isnotone of those times.
“Roxy!” I frantically bang on the glass. “Mom. Mom. Mom,” I scream.
Jesus.
When I see no movement, I jump down and rush toward the back of the trailer where my old bedroom is. Sliding off the screen, I lay my palms flat on the glass, pushing the window to the side.
The lock’s been broken for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, it’s how I got in and out of here when I was too scared to use the front door.
It feels like déjà vu at its worst as I hoist my body up, wiggling through the small opening. Too many years have passed since I’ve done this, and I’m not that small, agile girl anymore. I never thought I’d come back here, especially under these circumstances.
Once I’m half in, I extend my arms, placing my handson the floor, using them as a brace as I pull the rest of my body inside. I land on the ground with a thud, but I ignore the sharp pain shooting down my arm.
Springing to my feet, I stumble as I race into the main room, ignoring the stench and dodging the squalor that’s become her home.
“Roxy,” I cry as I drop to my knees beside her motionless body.
A strangled sob permeates from somewhere in the back of my throat when I grip her shoulder, shaking her. “Mom, wake up.” Even through her clothes, I can feel how deathly cold she is.
Adrenaline is coursing through me as I maneuver her onto her back. As soon as I get a good look at her face… her blue lips… the lifeless eyes staring back at me, I lose it. I know it’s a sight that will haunt me forever.
Burying my face in her chest, I start to weep, allowing myself a brief moment to grieve.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I don’t have the luxury of time to fully comprehend the gravity of my loss, I guess that will come later.
After the hell on earth she lived, it kills me to know she died like this…all alone, and at the hands of a man who’s probably the only person she ever truly loved.
At a glance, you’d surmise that her death was self-inflicted… an overdose. The needle is still lodged deeply in her flesh in the crook of her elbow, but the faint bruises on her jaw, cheek, and around her neck tell an entirely different story. I guess he decided to rough her up before administering the final blow…a lethal injection.
She’s a junkie, and well known by law enforcement around these parts, he probably thought they wouldn’t question her death, just another wasted life, but I knowbetter, and he won’t get away with this. I’ve let this man, and his past actions, rule my life for far too long.
Drawing back, I briskly wipe the tears from my face and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. After removing the needle, I place one hand on top of the other, over my mother’s breastbone, and start counting down in my head.
“Carlee,” I hear Reece call out moments before he starts bashing on the front door.Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen… I continue my compressions. “Carlee, open up.”
“Reece, help,” I scream, but I can’t stop what I’m doing,I just can’t.
I don’t even flinch when the front door flies right off its hinges, barely missing me as it crashes to the floor. My eyes snap in his direction as I continue to push on my mother’s chest. My head tells me I’m wasting my time trying to revive her because she’s long gone, but my heart is willing me to keep going.
Reece rushes toward me, and I see Grayson only a few steps behind. “She’s not breathing.”
“Let me see,” Reece says, gently moving me out of the way. If anyone can help her, he can.
He got all of the staff to learn first aid after one of our clients collapsed in the middle of circuit training from a massive heart attack last year. He started working on him straight away, keeping him alive until the paramedics arrived. He saved that man’s life; I pray he can do the same for Roxy.
