~ Hours later ~
I sit up in the hospital bed, still in my clothes and I look at my arm. Full cast on it. Great. The stiches on my arm pull and tug as I move my arm.
I cannot shake the feeling that I am being watched. I turn my head to see my mother sitting in a chair across the room.
“Mommy.” I whimper like a child.
It takes her five quick steps to have me in her arms whispering to me that it will be alright. I bury myself into my mother’s arms and sob and sob until there’s nothing left inside of me. When I’m all tuckered out, I look up into her eyes.
“You would think you would leave me?” She asks sternly.
“Mom. I-I-I didn’t mean to,” I start, trying to make up a believable story, “I was in the kitchen and I heard a noise and it scared me and when I jumped, I saw that it was only the washing machine going off. I jumped up so suddenly and I dropped the knife I was holding and I managed to cut myself in the process.” I finish.
She doesn’t believe me, neither would I if I had that said to me.
“You can tell me all about it later.” She whispers in my ear.
“Can I move back home?” I ask.
My mother laughs. “Of course. But first, let’s get you out of here and go back to your place and get this all sorted out.”
I smiled and told her let’s go. So we did. But I never moved out of Patten, Maine. Just to a different house.
