He hit me. It wasn\u2019t a slap out of impulse. It was a calculated strike to disorient me. I tasted blood. The folder fell to the floor, open. The pages got wet in the rain. \u201cI don\u2019t need you to sign it awake,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Then a voice spoke from the garage door. \u201cThat\u2019s why you never should have studied neurology, Marcus. You learned how to turn off brains, but not how to understand souls.\u201dThe woman from the screen was there. Standing. Soaking wet. With a face marked by scars crossing her cheek and neck. She was leaning on a cane, but there was nothing weak about her eyes.My mother. I didn\u2019t remember her name yet. But upon seeing her, my chest knew it. \u201cMom,\u201d I said.She cried, but she didn\u2019t take a step forward. \u201cLucy.\u201dMarcus grabbed me by the neck and pulled me against him. The gun pressed into my side. \u201cOne more step and I kill her.\u201d My mother raised her hands. \u201cYou\u2019ve already killed her so many nights. I won\u2019t let you do it one more time.\u201d \u201cYou don\u2019t understand. She was going to lose everything. I gave her stability.\u201d \u201cYou gave her a prison with clean sheets.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed. \u201cAnd what did you give her? A dangerous last name? An inheritance full of enemies? Her father left too much land, too many clinics, too many accounts. Someone was going to take it from her.\u201d \u201cAnd that someone was you.\u201d \u201cI was smarter.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother looked at me. \u201cLucy, the blue backpack.\u201d<\/p>\n
The world stopped. Blue backpack. I saw a highway at night. Me driving. My mother in the passenger seat, bleeding from her forehead. A blue backpack between my legs. \u201cDon\u2019t let go of it, honey. Everything is in there.\u201d<\/i> A semi-truck. Headlights. The impact.<\/p>\n
I woke up in a hospital with Marcus saying: \u201cRelax, Valerie. Your husband is here.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n