"Honey, you've been out for over four hours. Are you hungry?"
Abby peeked out from underneath the covers. Mom sat on the desk.
"No." That hurt. The room spun and her head pounded. Abby dropped her eyes.
Abby opened her eyes; her hair stuck to the side of her face. The clock read 1am. She swung her legs off the bed. The room spun a little bit; food that will help. Abby dragged herself down the stairs. She poked around the refrigerator. Cereal. Why? Milk. Why? Her stomach gurgled and Abby ran for the bathroom. The thermometer read 100.9. Abby stumbled over to the couch yanking a blanket over her.
"Rick, I'm worried about her. This is not normal," Mom said.
"She witnessed something awful. Ellie, give her time."
"Those reporters on the front lawn won't wait."
"Give her one more day. If she is still like this tomorrow, we will call Dr. Dewitt."
"Ok."
Abby squeezed her eyes shut. This time it didn't help. Gingerly, Abby sat up. Her stomach rumbled, but nothing happened. Abby shuffled out to the kitchen.
Went to store and errands. Back later. Don't answer door of phone, reporters looking for you. Leftovers from dinner are in fridge. Love, Mom.
Abby stuffed the bread in the toaster; her favorite meal. The thermometer read 100.6. Toast popped. Abby managed to eat a few bites. She crawled upstairs to her bed.
"Dr. Dewitt please... Yes, I'm concerned about my daughter, Abby. She has been sleeping quite a lot and when she is sleeping she screams... Alright, we'll see you at 11." Mom tapped her on the shoulder. "You have an appointment in an hour."
She said nothing. She didn't want to move, to think, to feel. Her eyes closed again.
"You missed the appointment. I'm disappointed in you. It's now scheduled for 3pm. Please get up and get ready."
Mom's eyes watched her, waiting. She threw the blankets back over her head.
"Dr. Dewitt, thank you for making a house call. I don't know what is wrong with her."
"Let's take a look, shall we."
The stairs creaked. Abby rolled over. The shower was five steps away. Abby locked the door.
"Young lady, come out right now, you are being rude." Mom pounded on the door. The warm water rushed over. At some point, she would have to face it again. Abby crawled back into bed. Oh, how she wanted to go.
"Leave her be, you heard the doctor, she is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She needs her space," Dad said.
"The doctor also said that she needs to drink fluids."
"I'll take it in." Dad's footsteps marched across the floor. The cool water felt good. What was Dad thinking? The door creaked shut. What was everyone else saying? Did they even care? Abby switched on her computer. Why did she want to know what they thought? The top headline read "Assistant District Attorney's Kids Killed in Drunk Driving Accident." Her hand flew over her mouth. No wonder those reporters were camped out. The article detailed the accident. Abby shut down the computer, but it was too late. The images replayed. Abby crawled over to the bed and squeezed her eyes shut.
Abby sat straight up in bed. It was beginning to get light outside. Her mouth felt gummy. The glass beside her bed sat empty. Abby picked it up heading for downstairs trying not to squeak the floor. Squeak. Abby paused. Squeak again. She remained still. Flash; a camera went off. Abby screamed; dropped to the floor. Dad’s footsteps boomed across the floor. The front door slammed shut. Dad’s strong arms lifted her and carried her back to bed. It was too much. She couldn’t sleep.
“I’ve been doing some looking, they have a retreat center, where she can go and receive around the clock privacy,” Dad said.
“What does Dr. Dewitt think?” Mom asked.
“He recommended the place. He can get her in immediately.”
“If you can get her out of that bed, I will Dr. Dewitt and we’ll get it set up for today.”
Dad poked his head in. “You awake?”
Abby nodded her head. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I know this is hard, but there is a place of quiet you can go and get some help. I think it would be for the best, so your mother won’t worry.”
She pulled herself to sitting. A quiet place of rest; it sounded nice. Abby nodded her head.
“Why don’t you get up and get packed. I will tell your mother.” He padded out the door and down the hallway. Abby glanced around her room. Escape. She gathered up all her clothes, her toiletries, and a few books to read. Hopefully, this placed would be peaceful and relaxing; nothing to worry about. Abby slipped into some comfortable clothes. Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
“Sweetie, you are all set. They are expecting you. I’m dropping you off today.”
“Ok, Dad.” He picked up her suitcase. Abby squeezed her mother and climbed into the front seat of her dad’s car. Goodbye house, goodbye memories. The reporters snapped pictures as they pulled out.
“The place you are going is about thirty minutes away, if you want to take a nap.”
Abby closed her eyes. Just before she fell asleep she heard her dad say, “I hope this place helps you better than I can.”
November 10th, 1990
Today I had my baby girl Abigail. She looks so much like him. I don’t know if I can do this. I met Rich Holmes at my summer classes. He said he didn’t care that I was pregnant. He’s always wanted children. Rich has been so helpful. He asked me to marry him. I don’t know if I love him, but I need help and he has a good job. Watching him snuggle Abby and they’re both sleeping tells me the answer. I know what I need to do.
End of Excerpt
I Love You I Hate You Page 3
