Tears in a Bottle by Sylvia Bambola

Author:Sylvia Bambola [Bambola, Sylvia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-76941-1
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2010-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

Becky sat propped in bed, staring at the wall in front of her. After finishing her diary entry, she had fallen asleep. She looked at the clock on her nightstand. She had been napping for almost an hour. But what was that sound—the sound that woke her? It took several minutes before she realized it was her mother vacuuming downstairs. She noticed her heart was racing and that she was drenched with perspiration. Then she noticed the rag doll. A towel hung in disarray around the doll, as if it had also had a fitful sleep. Becky pulled the towel off, then dropped the doll on the nightstand. What was Raggedy Ann doing on the bed and why was she wrapped like that?

A timid knock on the door made Becky jump. “Who is it?”

“Dad.”

“Come in.” Becky watched the knob turn and her father step cautiously through the doorway. He walked as if he were on tiptoe. He wore an anxious look, and Becky followed his eyes to the rag doll sprawled across the nightstand.

“Feeling better?”

Becky shrugged. “I guess so.” She vaguely remembered throwing up in the bathroom. She watched her father’s face relax a bit.

“You want to talk?”

“About what, Dad?”

“About…about things. I know you had an awful scare, with that madman in Solutions. It might help if you talked about it.”

“I don’t want to talk, not to you, anyway.” She could see by his face she had hurt him.

“Becky, I love you. All your life I’ve been looking out for you and trying to do what I thought was best, in your best interest. I’m sorry I picked Solutions. I know you trusted me and I picked a place where some nut job almost killed you. I’m real sorry about that. But you have to let your mother and me help you through this.”

Becky turned her face to the wall. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want your help ever again. Not as long as I live!” In spite of herself, she began to weep softly.

“I know you were frightened. I know how traumatic this has been, and it’s natural for you to blame me. I blame myself as well. I could’ve gotten you killed.”

Becky faced her father once more. “You just don’t get it, do you? I wish that maniac had killed me. I wish I had died. I wish I was dead!”

“You can’t mean that. You have your whole life ahead of you. You—”

“I want my baby back!”

Jim began backing out of the room. “I know it’s hard, but in time…in time things will get better, you’ll see.”

“I hate you! I’ll hate you for the rest of my life for what you made me do!”

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