and bruised, as are his knuckles. A large mark on his face is bright red, covering nearly half of it and it’s then that I realize he slammed his head repeatedly into the coffee table.
I put my hand on his chest, shaking him gently. “Talk to me, please,” I whimper, but he’s still. “Say something!”
I press my fingers to the side of his wrist, but fail to find a pulse. I press harder out of sheer panic. There’s nothing. “Jay!” I scream a strangled cry and wrap my fingers around his wrist, holding his hand with mine.
“How could you?” I whisper. He can’t leave me. “You can’t leave me,” I barely get out. “I love you. I love all of you and I can help you,” I tell him in a ragged voice through the sobs.
Regret and fear are consuming me. He can’t die.
It’s only when I put my fingers beneath his nose and feel his breath that I’m somewhat calmed. But his pulse is so weak. “Help me!” I scream, knowing no one can hear. The tears fall down my cheeks freely, my eyes already are swollen and stinging from the pain.
I can’t breathe as I hold his head in my lap, the warmth of the blood soaking through my clothes.
My body rocks back and forth. “Stay with me, Jay, please.”
“John, come back to me.”
“I love you both. I promise I’ll make it better. I swear I’ll never leave you again.” As I whisper the promise I faintly hear sirens making their way toward the house. Help is coming. Finally, help is coming for him. I sniffle and hold him closer, lowering my head and whispering next to his ear, “I’m so sorry.” I can’t even voice everything I regret.
The sounds of the sirens coming can be heard in the distance, getting closer now.
“Just please come back to me.”
Chapter 30
John
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Each time the machine sounds, my head throbs with a pain that only brings back memories. I feel my forehead pinch and another shooting pulse, but I can’t move my hand up to my head.
I groan, trying to move but I can’t.
The images flash through my head.
My father holding me down. Beep.
His fist. Beep.
The dogs. Beep.
I go backward in time.
My mother dying. Beep.
I want to stay there. They’re so happy. He holds her, and she holds me. Beep.
She’s on the ground. Beep.
She won’t wake up. Beep.
I scream out for her.
My head shakes and I try to move again, feeling closer to consciousness, becoming more aware of my body, but it’s so heavy.
I shake her shoulders, trying to get her to wake up. Mom! I scream out. Mom!
The sound of my father’s boots. The sound of the toolbox that crashes to the ground as he runs into the room.
My throat feels raw as I cry out again. Beep.
He pushes me out of the way.
No! Mom! Beep.
My shoulders shake as I watch him leaning over her.
Small hands shake me, but they aren’t in the room with me.
Father! Help her! Beep.
His cold gaze finds me, his hands still holding Mom, but when he looks back at me, I can’t cry out anymore. I can’t speak.
His eyes are like ice as he sneers at me. What did I do? Why is he blaming me? I didn’t do anything. I swear I didn’t.
“Jay!” I hear a voice scream, and my eyes part slowly. My groggy head sways and I try to blink. The bright lights hurt though. My wrists sting as I pull upward, but they won’t move. It takes a moment as my head lolls to the side to realize I’m in the hospital. Sedated and restrained.
“Jay,” I hear her soft voice and vaguely feel her hands on mine. I turn my hand slightly and she laces her small fingers with mine. My little bird. I’ve held her hand so many times. Her hand belongs in mine. Everything’s okay then. That’s all I need to know that everything’s okay.
Robin, my little bird.
She brought me here.
I expect anger, I expect to hate her. Instead I only feel weak and helpless. The pain in her voice is what does it. I’ve hurt her. I’ll do anything, my little bird. Don’t leave me. Not here, and not ever.
Slowly, the memories come back.
All twenty years and more.
My Robin. My sweet Robin.
I watch her run. I keep watching as the dogs bark behind me. They’re so close, and I’m certain they’re going to get out. It’s only a large stick keeping the cage secured. It’s going to