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COMMENT!
CHAPTER RECAP!!!
A low light shined from above me, a pinkish glow shined through my eyelids. There is nothing to see, and nothing to hear but the beeping of the monitor from beside me. My body is heavy. So heavy that I can not move. I can't remember how to open my eyes anymore. Someone begins to speak from beside me. I lie still. I strain to hear and make sense of the situation. I struggle to open my eyes again. Success. My eyes squint from the light overhead. My vision blurs. Someone is bending over me. An electronic machine sits on a cart with odd wires leading from my body to the machine along with a IV. A mint curtain hangs from a track on the ceiling. A bedside table is laced with flowers and cards along with a cream colored telephone. How long have I been here? A cup with a bent straw in it and a tray of half eaten food sits beside me on a table with wheels. The door is halfway open as nurses and doctors walk by, their shoes squeaking on the spotless white tile floor. A television hangs in the corner that is too high for anyone to reach, it plays MTV. I shift my body almost motionlessly in the bed. A cold wind takes to my back. Damn hospital gown. I think to myself. This has to be the most embarrassing garment invented. I bet everyone knows what my backside looks like. I faced my body towards Kenai, as he sat beside leaning back on a chair. I scanned his face as he studied the television.
"Why did you bring me here?" I whispered in a croaky tone. His eyes flickered towards mine as if this was the first time that I had spoken in years.
"What do you mean? You overdosed." Kenai answered and turned towards me.
"That night when I did that to myself, I meant it." I pointed out in a flat tone.
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*Robin's POV*
His forehead wrinkled in confusion, as his brown eyes darted back and forth. I was begging to feel bad for what I had done to him. He didn't deserve this. If anything my parents did. Sixteen years of beatings, arguments, and family dysfunction. I remember the many family photos that we had taken. Smiles aligning the crooked despair of our faces. Our hands on one another as if we hadn't just beaten each other with the same ones yesterday. The many bracelets that I wore daily to cover the coarse cuts that jacketed my arms. The pounds of makeup that my mother wore screen the contusions of her face. My father had never allowed neither one of us to take trips to the hospital, even when my mother had my baby brother he forced her to have a home birth. There was too much of a risk in going to the hospital, questions would be asked and suspicions would be raised. A pair of heels emerged from the hallway, as my mother entered the room. My father walking in almost motionlessly after her. She wore a pair of dark sunglasses and a cream colored blouse with a tight fitting skirt. Her chestnut brown hair tied tightly into a bun. I sighed immediately. Bring on the dramatics. She snatched the sunglasses from her face.
"Oh baby girl.." her hands began to probe my body. I almost cringed in response to them. My eyes flickered towards the cream blouse that she was wearing. "Thank God, you're alright." she sighed and pulled me in for a hug. I sat in her arms unresponsively.
"Mrs. Blackwell, what are you doing here?" Kenai stood as she entered the room.
"I beg your pardon, this is my daughter," she emphasized. "Why wouldn't I be here?" her hands came across the bandages that were wrapped around the cuts on my arms. I snatched them away, my eyes glaring at my father. Robert was here. He stood at the foot of the bed, his icy glare cutting into me like a Thanksgiving ham. I could feel the rage that sparked in his eyes. His heavily built, 6'4" body stood tensely as he continued to glare into my eyes. Fear began to take over me.
