“Roxanne was your sister!” he shouted. “Your fucking damn younger sister. And you want to throw her out? How do you expect her to survive alone? You are disgusting. Truly vile.”
He turned away from me without another glance.
His voice softened instantly as he spoke into the phone.
“Don't cry. I'm coming. No one will make you leave. I will handle her.”
Then he walked out.
The door closed.
The silence crushed me while I sat there, frozen and wondered.
When he left me with Westley, did he ever think about how I would survive alone? Did he ever worry if I was scared? If I was bleeding? If I would live to see another day?
I smiled without meaning to. My mouth tasted like metal. I lay back down and patted Ryle’s back as he stirred uneasily. I did not sleep again.
…
Morning came without mercy.
Ryle burned in my arms before the sun was fully up. His small body trembled, skin flushed, lips dry. When he cried, it was weak, broken, nothing like him. Panic slammed into me so hard I could barely breathe.
“Mommy’s here! I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” I called David while wrapping Ryle in a blanket. “Ryle has a fever,” My voice cracked despite my effort. “It’s high. I’m taking him to the hospital.”