Page 44 of Petals of Blue: Part Two
As if someone heard my plea for help, the door at the far side of the room swings open, but it’s not the men I need. I zero in on the clipboard the male nurse carries.
No longer feeling too tired to use my arms, I make grabby hands for his pen and board. He frowns, looks down, then seems to understand.Smart man.He removes some pages and hands me the rest.
He's talking and warning me not to hurt my fingers, which I'm just realizing a few of them are lightly bandaged. I don't care. All that matters is them.
I need Jared, Declan, Roman, and Felix. Please. Are they here?
Scrambling to give the nurse his clipboard back with the important request, I twinge my ribs. With labored breathing, I sink back into the scratchy sheets and hopewhatever the man is saying is confirming that my guys are out there.
It's not tears that blur my vision this time, just sheer exhaustion and my body giving out on me before I'll know for sure if they found me. I don't want to rest without them.
Too much happens when I close my eyes. I fear what horrible memory or awful future I'll dream of as I slip from consciousness.
Nothing could have prepared me for the emotional ride this shitty nap is about to take me on.
I'm floating, but not in an excitingI'm flying!way. No. This is thick and strange. Like I'm being dragged through a thick puddle of mud. It's disorienting, and I should be concerned—I think. But it's almost like there's no thought or feeling in this weird dreamscape.
I justexisthere, like I'm nothing. Or everything? Can everything feel like nothing?
I'm not even sure I?—
Like a punch in the gut and between the eyes, I'm yanked through time and space, blue and purple whizzing past me. Dread grows and grows until I believe that's all I am, and just as everything goes dark, awareness slams into me. Thrusting me into a situation I never thought I'd experience again.
What once felt disorienting fades tothis.A version of Erica Bennett that makes me cry.
"I-I'm V-Violet," the young blonde girl whispers. The tears filling her already bloodshot eyes make sense, considering I just overheard the woman behind her explain that Violet's dad passed away recently.
I wait, holding my breath and feeling my lungs tighten with barely suppressed curse words.This fucking bitch.Linda's upper lip curls in disgust. Disgust for her fucking daughter!
I knew Linda was cruel, but this is different. It changes things. No, Linda has no control over me. Little Violet might, though.
The bus ticket in my purse slowly begins to mean nothing the longer I wait for someone to give this poor girl a hug. My bag tugs the skin on my shoulder as it begins to slip.
I had a future planned. One where I was alone and working my ass off to survive. It was going to be better than living here. I'm eighteen. I'm done.
Except, the future I've been yearning for ebbs away with each moment I've been waiting for them to comfort Violet. They don't. I've never gotten a drop of care or comfort in this house, and it seems like Violet won't either.
Unless...
The strap of my bag leaves a slight burn behind as I allow it to fall.Thump.Startled green eyes snap to mine.Nothing matters but her.She won't grow up the way I did if I have anything to do with it.
Stepping forward, abandoning my duffle bag and ticket out of here, I kneel in front of the little girl. "Hi, Violet. I'm Erica. Can I hug you? I could really use one right now."
Maybe I'm not fully acknowledging the decision I have made, but when her tiny arms wrap around my neck, I know I've made the right choice.
The warmth of Violet's trembling frame is yanked from me as I'm shoved back into the thick quicksand. There's a sense of relief as all those feelings are ripped away, but also sadness because I would love to go back and do more for young Violet. She deserved better.
A soft twinkling voice drifts around me, and my heart clenches as I'm once again deposited into the body of my younger self. "My boot ripped today on the playground."
The weight of having to make another sacrifice suffocates me for just a moment until I look into Violet's eyes. She's ten, yet she knows we don't have enough money for nice stuff.
"My teacher tried to fix it, but—but it's pretty bad," V murmurs, twisting her hands in her sweatshirt. Minnesota has been one struggle after another. Why Linda chose to move here in the winter is beyond me.
"Alright," I say, adding a chipper tone to my voice as I tuck Violet's jacket around her. "Let's go get you a new pair."
Newisn't the right term since we can't afford that.
"Y-you sure?" She sounds scared, and it breaks my heart. No ten-year-old should be worried about asking for a necessity.
