Page 92 of Wretched Choices

Isabella

Pictures flash in front of me. A little girl that runs in the garden. And not any garden, my mother’s rose garden, the one I used to play in as I watched her tend to her roses. When the girl turns, I can’t see her face because the image has become black.

No, come back.I want to see her.

The sound of beeping. What’s that? Where is it coming from?

I can hear murmurs of different voices.

“Who did this?”Cecilia. Where is her voice coming from?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The rose garden is full of flowers, the garden that my father made for my mother. One they grew together since the first dayof their marriage. With my hair down my back, I’m wearing my flower print dress that my mother sewed. The summer rays of sunshine blind my eyes as I walk barefoot on the grass.

My mother sits on a blanket with a book on her lap as she reads, and as I approach her, she smiles at me. She raises her hand for me to take, and I do. I take a seat next to her on the blanket and she frames my face with both her hands and smiles at me.

“You are not supposed to be here, Bella.”

“I missed you, Mama.”

“I missed you too, honey.” The laugh of a small girl steals my attention and I see her again. The girl.

“She is such a beautiful girl. I’m sorry you couldn’t meet her.”

“Who is she?” I ask.

My mother looks at me apologetically. “You gave her to me, don’t you remember? She is part of you.”

My eyes fill with tears, and I look at the little girl. “I want to meet her.”

“I’m sorry, Bella, but you can’t. It is not your time yet. There are great things waiting for you and none of them are here.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I turn my head toward the sound.

And my mother and the girl disappear.

NO!

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“It has been a week. Why isn’t she waking up?” I know that voice. But where is it coming from?

“She will wake up when she’s ready.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Make it stop. My head is pounding. I need this to stop.

Beep. Beep. Beep. This time it’s louder and it’s hurting my head.

“Wake up, sweetheart.” I don’t recognize the voice this time.

My eyelids are so heavy, but still, I try to open them. This time, the blinding light makes my head hurt.

“That’s it. Welcome back,” a woman beside me says. I try to focus on her face, but I can’t open my eyes. They are too heavy.

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