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27
Birdie gently closed the door to Mia’s hospital room after her daughter asked her, with ice-cold stoicism, to please leave and to not come back.
Turning to her left, she waited, but Lucas didn’t say a word; just stood there, facing the window. Clearly devastated upon learning this cataclysmic piece of information regarding who he had spent that fateful night with nearly sixteen years ago.
Her throat closed as she turned the opposite direction, her hand grasping the door handle.
She paused…
Nothing.
Her heart fell to pieces around her as he let her walk out of that hospital room without trying to stop her. Without giving her the benefit of the doubt.
Funny how history repeats itself.
She had been fully prepared to tell them everything, unable to hold on to another toxic lie, before it all came crashing down around her.
Then again, there were no guarantees the end result wouldn’t have been the same. Despite sharing all her secrets voluntarily…
What if…
What if she had told them everything, in real time? As opposed to harboring lies for well over a decade?
At the time, she had thought the truth not even an option. Assuming Lucas, in his anger, would have taken Mia away from her, refusing to allow her to ever see her daughter again as she wasn’t, technically, her mother. There was no way she could let that happen. But what rights did she have?
Despite that, Birdie knew deep in her heart that Mia was hers. The very day she came into the world, it was like they were imprinted onto one another and inextricably connected.
There were still more details to share. More secrets to divulge and release. Would that even happen given she was asked to leave and not return?
Rubbing her bare arms, she wished she’d brought a sweater. More importantly, how was she going to get to the gas station? She didn’t have a car. Was almost broke. Could barely afford an Uber, considering she didn’t have a job.
Maybe she could call Pinkie? Bernadette?
But then she’d have to share why she didn’t have a ride and face their derision as well.
Standing in the middle of the hallway, unsure of where to go or what to do next, she considered next steps.
In her peripheral vision, she noticed a man leaning against the wall on the other side of the long bank of windows.
Errol.
He pushed off the wall and walked toward her. Moving with the sinuous pace of a slithering snake.
“You ready to go now?”
She felt her body cave into itself, having been in impossible situations many times before, she knew the feeling well. Ironically, despite the familiar sensation about to engulf her, turning her submissive and willing to take the punches, something else inside of her reared its ugly head.
A feeling that poured into her veins like hot lava, causing her eyes to narrow and her heart to close.
Vengeance.
Straightening her spine, for the first time in her life she faced her enemy with fire-breathing resolve.
She would not cower.
Never again would she submit and dutifully take her beating.
Fuck no.
