“She’s wrong,” I whisper over and over.
I sit on the toilet, holding something in my hand which may as well be a grenade, and when it changes before my eyes, I go numb.
It seems Madam Gazella isn’t a bogus fortune teller, after all, because she was right.
“The sickness you feel, it’s the commitment.Bambina.”
And that commitment will change everything, and that’s because…I’m pregnant.
Orchard Parks State Hospital is supposed to help people. But being here for five minutes has me wanting to claw my face off.
Medicated zombies roam the halls. They shuffle their slippers along the linoleum with a vacant stare on their faces. Their eyes are dead.
How is being locked away in here good for anyone?
So when the orderly unlocks the door and I see a woman restrained to a single bed, I realize that this placeisn’tgood.
I enter, and when the door slams shut behind me, I take that as Margarette is not a threat. But of course, she isn’t. She’s tied to the bed with no place to go.
I instantly feel pity.
Regardless of her sins, no one deserves to be treated this way, shackled to the bed like a neglected dog. Seeing her this way only fuels my hatred for Gianna. It’s because of her that Margarette is here.
She doesn’t move, and if not for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, I would think she’s dead. I approach the bed. She still doesn’t stir.
I didn’t prepare a speech. I just knew I needed to come here and ask questions.
However, looking at Margarette’s comatose state, I doubt I will be getting any answers.
“Hi, Margarette. My name is Lennon. I was an orphan at Saint Maria’s. I know your friend, Gianna Ricci.”
Bingo…
A slight flicker of her eyelids reveals she heard me, and I’ve struck a nerve.
I pull up a chair and sit by her bedside.
Margarette is the only person who has damning evidence against Gianna. She is the only person who can help me save Valentina.
However, she may well be in a coma.
“I don’t care about your past. All I care about is saving the girl who came to see you. Her name is Valentina, and she is Gianna’s daughter.”
No recognition, but I know she can hear me.
“Gianna lied to Valentina, claiming you were her mother. That’s why I’m assuming she was livid when she came to see you. I need your help. I need you to tell me the truth. I need to know who Gianna was and why she would do such a thing.
“Was she your friend?”
Margarette stares vacantly at the ceiling.
I must get through to her. Leaving here without answers is not acceptable. But how do you get through to someone who looks more dead than alive?
I suddenly realize there is only one way: the way that connects us and makes us human.
Love…
“Regardless of what he did, you really loved him, didn’t you?”