Chapter III: Suspicion
As the week continues, I begin to notice Mrs. Franklyn watching me with a look of suspicion in her eyes. It must the increasing number of bruises covering my body. I can't seem to do anything right at home.
On Tuesday the kitchen wasn't spotless, Wednesday her juice tasted sour, Thursday she caught me watching channel 21, and today the trash hadn't been taken out. Each mess up gave me up to three bruises.
"Ms. Ronan." I hear Mrs. Franklyn call me before I walk out of the room for recess.
"Yes?"
"May I speak with you?"
What could she want?
I walk over to her desk and wait for her to begin.
"Ms. Ronan, I have noticed that you are covered in bruises. Could you explain to me how you got them?"
Oh no.
I then begin to point to each bruise and pull different ideas from my head and out of my mouth.
"And this one I got from playing with my dog."
I don't have a dog.
"Okay, let me take you to the nurse. Perhaps she will have something that can help."
What can the nurse do about bruises?
She leads me to the nurse's office. When we arrive, I sit on a blue chair in the corner.
Ms. Franklyn steps out into the hallway with the nurse while I sit and wait, reading a book. They come back in 5 minutes later and the nurse begins to examine my "accidents."
I can tell that I'm not fooling anyone.
She then steps out again with Ms. Franklyn. I can hear them chatting in the hallway, and then I hear another voice join them. It's Mr. Grete. They all enter the room with looks of concern on their faces.
"Rebecca, the bruises aren't from playing with your dog or falling off of your bike, are they?"
I gulp. "Y-yes they are." That wasn't very convincing.
"Rebecca," Ms. Franklyn is now on one knee in front of me with what looks like tears forming in her eyes. "You can tell me the truth."
This could be it. I could finally tell someone. I could finally escape from this misery. But, what about my mother? Who will take care of her? Who will nurse her back to health after a long night of drinking? Who will feed her? I know what I have to do. I have to protect my mother.
"I've already told you the truth."
She gives me another look of concern, and then stands up, taking my hand to lead me to recess. Before we reach the hallway I glance back to Mr. Grete. The look on his face says "this isn't over."
Something tells me he's right.
That night I pray for my mother, and it's not like any prayer I've ever said before. I don't usually pray for my mother, I've always just assumed that she was who she was, and that couldn't change. But I realize now that that's very naive of me. I ask God to forgive her, because I know that she will never ask "my imaginary friend" herself. I pray that she will overcome her addictions and straighten her morals to a route that has not been carved by society. I don't know if this prayer will be answered,because if it is not His will then it will not be so. But one thing that I do know is that He will do what is best for us.
Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.
- 1 Peter 5:6-8