10 - Burn

Erin was ill, sick with a fever. Her head was as hot as an overused hand warmer. She was breaking even 38 degrees Celsius.

Mr Bishop helped Robin run cool compress towels every so often. He stayed home to cook chicken noodle soup on the cooktop and delivered it to her like he was her servant. Her servant. She laid peacefully asleep, her eyebrows weren't creased as they were when she was awake. That eased Robin's mind.

"Robin, go get another cold compress."

Dutifully, she obeyed. As she shuffled down the stairs, she thought about how Erin was having so much fun last week with her mum, but someone from the park must have been sick. Robin couldn't help but wonder how many other children were suffering like little Erin was. All laid up in bed, unable to play with their friends. It was sad.

Her hand grazed the icy bean bags and she froze.

Bam! Bam! Bam! The fists kept crashing on her ribs and chest. Oh God it hurt. She clutched her waist and curled like a caterpillar, wishing that her daddy wasn't drunk off his ass. Biting her lip and squinting her eyes, she let her body roll and flop in accordance to his knuckles' rap.

Robin's father was either an affectionate drunk or a mean drunk. He was grumpy in general, but drinking was a whole different ballpark. More often than none, it was aggravation that ruled his warped mind after a night at the pub. His fists pounded and pounded on his daughter, again and again, unrelenting, unrestrained, with slight predictability in his moves.

As Robin shielded her extremities, she didn't cry. He wouldn't allow it, so she couldn't do it. It was a weakness, an inexcusable offence according to Mr Elliott. Eventually he stopped his assault, leaving with a moody grumble as he stomped away.

Her breath hitched as she writhed on the stained carpet. She made a mental note to clean it later, but she knew that no matter how hard she scrubbed forever would remain a reminder of her sins.

Although her face barely took any of the brunt, it still thrived with pain beating like a pan. He may have quit but the throb didn't. Twisting her face, she clenched her jaw as she struggled to sit. Every punishment followed the same ritual. This time she arrived home late. In a way, the beating had been all worth it.

"Robin! Come on! I'm not getting any younger!"

She snapped out of her trance and peered down. Her hand ached from the cold air. Pushing the door close, she turned around. "I'm sorry, I'm coming!" Quickly yanking a fabric towel from the drawer, she took two steps at a time while wrapping the beanie inside it.

Stepping into the room, the door squawked.

"I'm sorry."

"Here, take this down and don't take forever."

"Okay." She nodded twice as the melted pack sagged in her hand. With a quick peek behind her, she noticed Mr Bishop's palm smoothing the damp strands on Erin's sweaty forehead.

His form slumped and his head tilted to the side. At that moment, he was all human. Every fibre of his being was the father that Erin begged for. It was the same father she pleaded for almost a decade.

Her heart ached with a twinge of jealousy but she let it go at that moment too. She saw the dangerous side of him, the side that reminded her of her father. The lust in his eyes were undeniable that night, and when she refused his advances, he flipped. Luckily, the yellow bruise on her rib was almost completely sealed.

As she quietly descended, she kept the memory if his dark side at bay. Maybe it was just a moment of weakness? He didn't drink heavily when Erin was in the house, and he didn't actually lay a cruel hand on her either. She let it go to move on. People deserved second chances, after all, she got one before.

As commanded, she placed the pouch back into the icy fortress. He didn't tell her to return with anything, so she went back empty-handed. Nearing the door, she heard his voice. She tip-toed and slid onto the wall, pricking up her ears to listen. He was singing something, but it was incomprehensible to her. After he stopped, she walked in and stood by him.

"I'm going to make some more soup, okay," his voice was so broken and fragile. It shocked her a bit how sensitive he became the last two days. "If she wakes up, let me know, please." Please? Her eyes caught his shoulders as they walked away. Mr Bishop was a completely different man.

"Of course."

With a weak smile, he left.

Robin swallowed. She never heard so much love in his pitch and tone at the same time since Erin returned home eight days ago. Checking the clock, she turned back to the bed. "Erin, honey," Robin cooed as she smoothed the hair on the girl's head. Erin stirred, her head lolled to the side trying to find the source of the voice. "Hey, I'm sorry for waking you, but I need to see how your fever's doing, okay?" Whispering, Robin kept her palm near the beanie.

Erin mumbled something incoherent that Robin took as a go-ahead. Easing off the compress from her forehead, Robin let the cold temperature return to normal before slipping the thermometer between Erin's limp lips.

"Er, I need you to hold this under your tongue."

No matter how hard she tried, the slippery stick kept slipping from underneath. Erin groaned in discontent as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Shh, shh, it's alright, Er."

Beep beep. The stick sounded, and Robin checked the temperature. It was climbing, quickly and dangerously.

"Here, Erin, lay your head down. I'll be back in a second." The same whimper whispered from Erin. Placing the melted beanie on her head, swiftly, Robin stood. Her feet jumped down the stairs.

"Mr Bishop, Erin needs the hospital. Her fever's gone up to 102!"

He cussed as he ripped the keys off the shelf and tossed them to her. "Turn the stove off and get in the car!" He said with a business tone. "I'll get Erin."

"Okay."

They departed at that moment.

Robin unlocked the doors of the sedan and swung into the backseat. No way was she leaving Erin alone in the back, and even though Mr Bishop was acting normal, she didn't want to accompany him in the front.

~

At the hospital, Mr Bishop checked in Erin, and the doctors raced her to the ER. By then, Erin's body began to shut down.

They weren't permitted to go in, so they slumped in the uncomfortable chairs waiting for an update.

Robin twiddled her thumbs in a vain attempt to keep occupied. She didn't want whatever this was to worsen as it already was. Her leg silently thumped the rhythm of a quickstep that had no melody. Looking over toward Mr Bishop, he wasn't coping that well either.

She counted, that was his third coffee guzzling down his throat. He said adamantly that he would be awake when the doctors came back and gave them word. All the caffeine in his nerves were causing him to pace around in a circle like a slow dog nipping at its tail. Robin was half surprised that he didn't fall through the floor from the hundreds of circles he made.

The other patrons in the waiting room either watched the boring entertainment on the news channel or had their noses dug in magasins. Some of them she noticed had the same flimsy book that they started with. Only one was dosing with the pages facing the ceiling. She couldn't help but let a small smile twist her lips, at least someone wasn't tortured with tortoise time.

A man with a white lab coat appeared in the doorway. Robin's heart quickened, waiting for Mr Bishop's name. The man called a name, but it didn't belong to him. instead, two adults stretched to their feet as they followed the man back to the rooms.

The disappointment plastered on Mr Bishop's face was evident. She felt sympathy when he raised his hopes just to be let down.

Missing the beat, he paused and then picked up his pace again. The poor carpeted tiles probably had a person like Mr Bishop drilling holes on every floor. Threading his hand through it thin hair, he took out his mobile and fiddled with the screen.

"Molly, it's me."

"Uh, Sir," a woman called from the desk.

"Hold on, Mol." He turned to the woman. "Yes?"

"You can't make phone calls in here."

"It's just a really quick call to my ex."

"I understand, Sir. However, it affects the machines inside the hospital. Please go outside."

"Fine." Mr Bishop rolled his eyes and sighed. "Mol, I'll call you in five minutes." Leaving, he left Robin alone in the waiting room, except for the hospital personnel and another couple of unlucky souls.

Without Mr Bishop's circling, things quieted to a exhausting silence.

Robin counted all the reds in the room then the oranges and yellows. Subsequently, she reached the greens and the blues before boredom tore her attention away. Even she admitted that the altered i Spy game was a terrible way to let time excel - not that that happened. After picking colours, her mind wandered away to other thoughts.

"Oh, gosh! Honey, she's burning up!"

"I'll let the peas, you just make sure she's comfortable, okay?"

Robin laid in her wooden framed bed as bullets of sweat rolled down her temples. She never felt a head rush such as this before. It made her eyes waggle as she tried to shift.

Her mother's palm pressed gently on her head again.

A whimper came from outside the room.

"Awe, I think Teddy wants to know how you feel and give you kisses so you'll feel better. May I let him in?"

Weakly, Robin nodded as Ted came in prancing like a show dog into the rink. His head dug into the side of her thigh as he nuzzled it. With sad puppy eyes he yelped.

"Teddy," she groaned as her eyes dipped shut. She was tired.

"People for Erin Bishop?" Her eyes shot up to the same man that entered earlier.

~

Tears were in their eyes as they stood outside in a green field. They all were clad in black outfits, honouring the traditional code of conduct. Some wore sunglasses to divert their puffy, swollen eyes from view. Others with Kleenex blew their noses as they sobbed silently in the arms of relatives.

Though the weather was happy, it held no signs that that day another person's body was headed six feet under. No, the sun's rays played with the bright blue sky, not a cloud was in sight!

A group of six somber faces carried the long box through the aisle as a bagpipe squeaked nearby. Finally arriving at the plot, the men carefully set down the weight and retreated to the sidelines as a man in a long black robe took his place.

"She was a young soul, taken too quick from this earth." The priest spoke with a gloomy face. The breeze tickled his hair - the white patches he had receded from his hairline. The speech continued and more tears shed into the white tissues blotted with mascara. Closing his declaration, he clasped his hands. "May she rest in peace."

One by one, relatives of the lost soul delicately balanced flowers on top of the peanut brown casket.

The death was unexpected, unannounced, incomprehensibly surreal, but 100% true. The words of the priest zoned out as Robin watched with a stoic face. It happened so quick, she was alive and then she wasn't. How could time turn on her so quickly? She barely was beginning her life before it was viciously ripped out of her hands. The thought depressed Robin as her eyes glided to her feet while another man's voice picked up the microphone.

"Officer Valise's heroic actions will not be forgotten," said the screen.

Robin continued eyeing the newscaster as more words trailed behind him.

The poor junior officer, brand spanking new out of the academy, died performing her police duty, her first and last apparently. Albeit, her death was not in vain; truly, she was on the team that saved a young boy trapped in a basement by a sociopathic psychopath.

From what was reported, when Officer Valise and her partner were heading inside Ethan Summers's house, to secure the scene, the man laid in wait.

He fired two rounds at the first person in uniform, knowing that his acts of terrorism were finished.

Allegedly, Mr Summers figured if he was going down, he would drag someone else to the grave all in the wretched name for people remembering his name. Hubris. As disheartening as it was, his stunt worked.

The news ranging between magazine articles to primetime NBC news littered with the slain criminal's name. Overzealous journalists ate up the witnesses' statements while picking at Mr Summers's backstory as vigorously as the South Dakota homicide detectives investigating their fellow officer's case.

The papers titled the whole case, "Savage Tragedy," named in part for both victims. As part of Mr Summers's reign of terror, the boy was savagely tortured while in captivity, and the woman's death was a tragedy.

"Robin."

Straight away the television broadcasting the horrid news shut off.

Her head whipped around to the bulky bed.

"Erin! Hey, how do you feel?"

"Um, my head hurts a little. Where's Daddy and Mommy?"

"They're right outside the door. The doctor is talking with them right now."

"Oh, okay. What was that on tv?"

"Uh, nothing. Just some stuff that wouldn't really interest you. Would you like to watch something?"

Erin nodded sleepily as Robin turned on the screen. Quickly, she flipped to the nearest kid's station. "Is this good?"

"Yeah, but could you turn it up a little?"

~

The show, she admitted silently, was intriguing, and overall, it had a good theme. Ponies had magical powers or flew. They were very colourful with different icons on their flanks.

Twilight was a combination of both a pegasus and a unicorn. She was the leader of the group of six, and Robin liked her the best. They both were empirical thinkers.

All in all, there was Twilight, two pegasi, two regular ponies, and one unicorn concerned deeply about her appearance and style.

Erin liked the pink one with balloons branded on her bum. Her name was something with Pink. Whatever it was, she was overly joyful and extremely random. At least Erin laughed, that was all that mattered.

"Erin! Honey! How are you feeling?"

"Shh! We're watching the show!"

The three adults rang out a relieved, humoured chortle.

Robin stood, offering her seat as Mrs Bishop came over.

"So, I take it that she feels better?" It was a statement embraced in the remnants of the laugh.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You can call me Molly, or just Miss Collins if you must. Still, Molly's fine," she whispered as her eyes found Robin's.

Ms Hartman flashed in her mind, as she spoke almost a repeat of those words.

Robin couldn't help the smile that pulled on her lips as she nodded.

Ten minutes later, in waltzed the doctor with a friendly smile. By then, the show ended, and Erin's focus was on a cartoon with dogs that talked in a shelter.

"Erin Bishop?" His eyes found the girl's. "Hello, my name is Dr Roberts. May I ask you some questions?"

She nodded her eyes eager for the questionnaire to begin.

"Okay, on a scale of one to ten, ten being the absolute worst and one being super fantastic, how do you feel?"

Erin paused, thinking. "Uh, four?"

That question never made sense to Robin. How could one tell how well they felt by the indication of a number? It was hard enough describing how she felt without rating it.

"Is anything hurting? Your head? Your chest?"

"My head a little bit."

"Okay, anything else?"

"No."

He turned to Mr Bishop and Ms Collins. "Just watch over her temperature, alright. If she's in pain, a Tylenol's fine to give her. Otherwise, she's okay. As I told you earlier, we're waiting to get the tests back. Until then, she's all good to go."

"Thank you, Dr Roberts." Each adult shook hands.

"I'll grab the discharge papers, and one of the nurses will take Erin down in a wheelchair." Flipping back to Erin. "You take care, Erin." With a nod, he exited.

~

The remainder of the day was terribly slow. Ms Collins and Mr Bishop were trying to keep their voices low below while Robin watched Erin watch television.

Rolling her eyes, Robin sighed as her ears picked up bits and pieces of their conversation. Parents either split or stuck it out for their children. Apparently, neither worked.

"Molly, please, I just need you for the week, then you can run along to wherever the hell you want."

"Why do you need me?" Their voices lowered as he whispered. "That's fan-fucking'tastic! You want me to stay because-"

"Moll, lower your voice! Erin's right upstairs!"

"Oh no! Don't you dare tell me to lower my voice!"

Tensing, Robin's eyes shot to the door as she waited for a loud clap. It never came; however, Ms Collins continued half-shouting.

If she so blatantly said that to her father, she would have been whipped. Robin's father didn't tolerate disobedience. She knew that more than anyone. The memory slipped into her mind as she held herself. Her hands trembled as she tried to steady her laboured breath.

"Robin? Are you okay?"

Her wide eyes flickered before their normal glint returned. "Yeah, Erin, I'm fine." But, she wasn't. She was out of breath, her mind was swirling. Panting, Robin felt like the walls were closing in with eager to suffocate her. The door called, so she yanked it open. Better, but not quite. As she padded down the hall, she huffed as her head pounded.

"Wait! Robin, where are you going?"

"I uh, I need to go to the bathroom. I'm okay, Erin, just watch TV alright?"

Missing Erin's wry nod, she stumbled into the threshold of the room. The door quietly slammed behind her as she wobbled to the toilet bowl. Cold sweat ran down her temples as she concentrated on her reflection.

'Oh God!' Her brain was beating as fast as her heart. 'No, please! Please stop!' Slumping down, her fingers tugged at her scalp as she squeezed shut her eyes. Her knees protectively drew to her chest as she rocked and chanted that mantra.

Knock, knock!

"Robin?" A female voice that we couldn't discern tore from the other side. "Hey, can you unlock this door, please?"

The door was locked? Robin couldn't remember doing that though.

"Honey, please?" The voice was so familiar, but her mad mind wouldn't allow her to think anything else except the excruciating agony the blows from her father's belt caused. Her whole body trembled as she remained curled.

'Stop it! Please stop it!' Robin muttered with her palms now covering her ears.

"Robin! I need you to open this door right now!" Another voice boomed as a hard pound, pound, pound slapped the wooden plank.

She thought she was going to soil her pants. He was coming after her. The thump of her chest was so loud.

"Robin!" The girl's voice jumped in. "Robin!"

The girl's voice was the Aleve, as her brain cleared automatically wiping away her brain's traumatic thoughts. Blinking her eyes, she glanced around. She wasn't on the kitchen tiles and the leather vanished. Nonetheless, her legs quivered like an earthquake as she stood. Everything returned to normal. Everything but her.

Word Count: 3321

A/N: I'm dedicating this to CJLaurence and her story Retribution, a domestic violence story. Go through Louisa Simmons journey as she flees from her abusive husband and meets a new man ready to show her that she is worth the world to him.