Saving Sadie

The coolness of the faded t-shirt sooths my swollen, feverish skin, but I can’t help but flinch as the fabric brushes across the cuts and bruises. I bite my lip and whimper as the small cut at the corner of my mouth starts to bleed again. If it weren’t for school I’d leave it to bleed, but I can’t let people see. I can’t let people ask their empty questions which in the end would only make things worse. Charlie says he’ll kill me if I tell anyone and I’m not going to test that theory.

“Go away,” I tell the reflection in the mirror. It stubbornly yells back with its hollow listless eyes. “Go away!” My hands shake in uncontrollable tremors as my shoulders bend under angry sobs. The glass is cold against my forehead as I rest against the mirror and screw my eyes shut.

“Go away,” the wind outside my broken window seems to whisper, “Go away and never come back. Go away and leave it behind. Go away and end it all.”

Another voice, silent like the wind, but gentle and kind like the soft breeze of spring that wraps around you and plays with your hair, slips though my thoughts. Mommy used to do just that, wrap me in her strong but kind arms, stroke my hair and twist it into long braids. Sometimes, when I’m silent I can still hear her voice, but unlike the wind it picks me up and carries me away.

She lays in the hospital bed among a tangled web of IV’s and tubes that form a wall between our hugs. I don’t know what they’re for, but Daddy says they’re helping her get better. Daddy say’s Mommy’s very sick, but she’ll be better soon. I know she will.

“Hello, Darling.” Even with the tubes that sit beneath her nose and pump spurts of oxygen into her lungs, her voice is unchanged. Maybe it’s a bit weaker, the earthy tones a little l...

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...we’re okay. We’re going to take care of you though.”

Her hand feels unnaturally cold against my cheek as her eyes frantically search my face. “Promise, Darling. Promise me you’ll watch out for him, that you won’t leave him.”

The light that sparked in her eyes, that flickered and flashed with so much intensity I sometimes feared Mommy would get burnt, fades like the dying embers of a fire. It brightens for a moment so brief that I almost miss it, but it gives me strength to find the words.

“I promise, Mommy. I’ll take care of Daddy too. I’ll take care of you both.”

The light’s almost gone and her hand barely brushes across my skin. “I love you my beautiful girl, never forget that. I love you forever, just like the oceans.”

The light is gone. Gone like my mother who used to hold me steady against the ocean waves. Who will hold me steady now she’s gone?