Under Wings of Grace (Discontinued)

7 - Innocent

7 - Innocent

After hours of laundry runs, folding and hanging the clothes, straightening and reorganising their bedroom, preparing lunch, and so forth, there was no time left to prepare dinner.

Slam! The front door whacked the frame with so much force, the vibration made their bedroom door tremble.

Erin jumped to her feet, horror washing across her face. "Oh no! I forgot dinner!" She panicked as she clutched her head.

"It's ok, Erin." Robin struggled to keep the little girl still as she clutched her arms tight enough to not hurt her. "I'll take care of him. You just focus on cleaning up your dolls, alright."

When Erin was finally calm enough to give Robin's words full attention, she nodded.

"It'll be alright, I promise. It's my fault anyway. I'm older than you, and I should've been more responsible. Don't worry, Erin, please." She forced an encouraging smile as she ran her hand through Erin's curls. Standing up, she exhaled deeply.

With a slight head shake, Erin took large handfuls of her toys while trying to dump them silently into the bin.

Robin gulped, closing her palm around the door handle. Her chest was pounding.

Their bedroom door opened without so much of a sound, almost as if it too were terrified to the man somewhere in the house, ready to explode his temper.

Robin hushed her nerves as she rehearsed her lines. She opted to walk with confidence as she met Mr Bishop in the kitchen with the yellow post-it note, that hung on the fridge, in his tight fist. She noticed his hardened jaw and knit eyebrows. Stopping, she stayed silent, her confidence draining out by the second as she watched him.

His chest rose and fell with impatience and his unoccupied fist flexed and curled. The crack of his neck made Robin flinch. When he opened his eyes, she caught his fiery glare.

"Mr Bishop." Robin boldly stepped forward. As she waited for him to respond, she stopped her hands from fidgeting. The inside of her mouth felt as dry as plywood baking in the sun's heat.

"Why isn't my dinner on the table?" He chewed his lip.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to cook your meal. I'll get on it right away."

"No, get Erin and stay up there until I tell you to come back downstairs."

"Sir, this is my fault entirely. I was-"

"Go upstairs, now and get Erin."

"Don't blame her. You specifically ordered me to make your dinner. I'm responsible for neglecting your meal, not her."

"If you don't get Erin in this room and your ass up those stairs by the time I count to five, you'll both be in some serious shit," he threatened, barely containing his temper. He began counting up, but Robin stood her ground.

"Five." His face twisted as his eyebrow quriked. "Fine. Erin! Get-"

"No! I told you it was my fault, my responsibility. I'm older than her, I should've managed our time better. Don't punish her for my mistake." Robin realised the words spewing out of her mouth were only making her grave deeper. At the rate she was going, she might as well jump into the pit and bury herself.

He quirked his brow and scoffed, his face had a look of astonishment at the authority in her voice. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lip as his eyes darkened.

Robin stood in silence waiting on baited breath for his words. She could feel the moisture wicking from her armpits and back into her skin, but she dared not to adjust her shirt. In her experience, even the slightest signs of nervousness would send her a one-way ticket to the floor by a flying fist.