Under Wings of Grace (Discontinued)

5 - New Day

5 - New Day

Somehow Robin managed to drift off to sleep before waking up at six. Yawning, Robin sat up and stretched her tight muscles, they were tight and ached. 'Why am I so stiff?' she wondered as she worked her arm joints. Her hair flopped over her shoulders. Licking her lips, she tried to remove the dryness from her mouth. She turned, glanced at the little girl, and then got up and explored the bedroom. There were books precisely aligned in the bookcase from smallest to tallest.

Books. Robin couldn't contain her giddy grin.

Robin loved books, they were her escape from the world. The one place she felt free of her parents' drug dealing activities. Reading allowed her to travel to wherever that author wanted to lead their characters. She liked the rush of diving into a book and being right where their characters were.

She enjoyed pretending to be a junior "detective" and solving the foreshadow clues the author presented in the text. Hence, she preferred detective novels, but not the gruesome murder or horror novels. Robin didn't have a taste for gore like her parents did. She wanted nothing to do with that. Instead, she preferred the plots where the detectives had to find a child or woman and rescue them from danger. Somehow she believed that one day she would be the one rescued from her parents' neglect and abuse.

The wooden shelf held old classics and a selection of children's books. Robin read the titles, tilting her head to do so. To Kill A Mockingbird, The Christmas Carol, Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, Robin Hood, Animal Farm, The Odyssey, Hamlet, and other books. Some of the classics she recognised, others only by their titles. Robin selected one at random. The books slanted, resting on one another.

Sliding onto her bunk, she cracked open the book. Her nose buried in the novel as she began reading. She flipped the pages with care, making sure not to damage the older paper.

About an hour or a half later she heard movement in the room next door. She blindly returned the book to its original spot, her eyes focused on the door handle. Robin decided if the man was up, she could rise, too.

Slipping the door ajar, she checked down the hallway for people. No one. Stepping into the bathroom to freshen up, she examined her reflection in the mirror.

Her temple had a band-aid. To her relief, she hadn't received a life-threatening brain damage. She had only suffered a concussion. However, it was severe enough to cause her to black out, the doctor had said, explaining why she had lost consciousness during the hospital transport. Although the memories of the crash were less severe, Robin would forever be reminded of the day her parents lives were taken.

Underneath the rather large band-aid on her forehead laid a small scar near her hairline from when her head shattered part of the window. At that time, her dark hair had masked the small amounts of dried blood and glass in her scalp.

The doctor, the same one from the operation, had softened when he came and checked on her progress. His voice wasn't hard, his tone welcoming. She had recognised the look of sympathy in his face after entering her room that afternoon. After assessing her, he had promised to send in a nurse to change her side padding later that day.

Robin snuck her fingers underneath the fabric clinging to her torso. With a frown, she rolled up the end of the tank top until the bandage on her torso appeared.

Her cold hand brushed against the padding, her stomach flinched, protesting the icy invaders. The doctor had told her to take it easy.

"Don't go running a marathon," he had teased. Oh, she wasn't planning to anyway.