5 - New Day

Somehow Robin managed to drift off to sleep before waking up at six. Yawning, Robin sat up and stretched her tight muscles, they were tight and ached. 'Why am I so stiff?' she wondered as she worked her arm joints. Her hair flopped over her shoulders. Licking her lips, she tried to remove the dryness from her mouth. She turned, glanced at the little girl, and then got up and explored the bedroom. There were books precisely aligned in the bookcase from smallest to tallest.

Books. Robin couldn't contain her giddy grin.

Robin loved books, they were her escape from the world. The one place she felt free of her parents' drug dealing activities. Reading allowed her to travel to wherever that author wanted to lead their characters. She liked the rush of diving into a book and being right where their characters were.

She enjoyed pretending to be a junior "detective" and solving the foreshadow clues the author presented in the text. Hence, she preferred detective novels, but not the gruesome murder or horror novels. Robin didn't have a taste for gore like her parents did. She wanted nothing to do with that. Instead, she preferred the plots where the detectives had to find a child or woman and rescue them from danger. Somehow she believed that one day she would be the one rescued from her parents' neglect and abuse.

The wooden shelf held old classics and a selection of children's books. Robin read the titles, tilting her head to do so. To Kill A Mockingbird, The Christmas Carol, Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, Robin Hood, Animal Farm, The Odyssey, Hamlet, and other books. Some of the classics she recognised, others only by their titles. Robin selected one at random. The books slanted, resting on one another.

Sliding onto her bunk, she cracked open the book. Her nose buried in the novel as she began reading. She flipped the pages with care, making sure not to damage the older paper.

About an hour or a half later she heard movement in the room next door. She blindly returned the book to its original spot, her eyes focused on the door handle. Robin decided if the man was up, she could rise, too.

Slipping the door ajar, she checked down the hallway for people. No one. Stepping into the bathroom to freshen up, she examined her reflection in the mirror.

Her temple had a band-aid. To her relief, she hadn't received a life-threatening brain damage. She had only suffered a concussion. However, it was severe enough to cause her to black out, the doctor had said, explaining why she had lost consciousness during the hospital transport. Although the memories of the crash were less severe, Robin would forever be reminded of the day her parents lives were taken.

Underneath the rather large band-aid on her forehead laid a small scar near her hairline from when her head shattered part of the window. At that time, her dark hair had masked the small amounts of dried blood and glass in her scalp.

The doctor, the same one from the operation, had softened when he came and checked on her progress. His voice wasn't hard, his tone welcoming. She had recognised the look of sympathy in his face after entering her room that afternoon. After assessing her, he had promised to send in a nurse to change her side padding later that day.

Robin snuck her fingers underneath the fabric clinging to her torso. With a frown, she rolled up the end of the tank top until the bandage on her torso appeared.

Her cold hand brushed against the padding, her stomach flinched, protesting the icy invaders. The doctor had told her to take it easy.

"Don't go running a marathon," he had teased. Oh, she wasn't planning to anyway.

Ms Hartman and the doc knew of her injuries, and they had hit the nail on the head with their suspicions. What her parents would have done to her if they were alive and kicking. She shivered at the thought. They'd beat her until she couldn't walk, at least that would be a godsend compared to the other stuff. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to remember.

The glint of her necklace caught her eye. Clutching the chain strung around her neck, she absentmindedly smoothed her fingers around it. She stared at the necklace in the mirror, a little smile replaced her frown as she lost herself in thought.

"Happy Birthday, Robin!" her parents cheered as they finished their song. They presented her a small bag with colored tissue paper stuffed inside.

She scooped out a velvet box and opened the lid. Inside was her mother's polished necklace. "Mom! I love it! It's so beautiful!" She grinned ear to ear.

"Here, let me put it on you." Robin's mother came behind her and clipped on the chain while Robin held up her silky hair. "It looks gorgeous on you, Chickadee."

Robin blushed. Turning her head down, her hair fell into her face. "Thank you, Mom and Dad." She embraced her parents in a large hug.

"I know it's not much, but I wanted you to have this. My mother gave me this on my tenth birthday too."

"Mom, it's fine. I love it! Thank you so much!"

"I'm sorry that it's been so crazy with your father's business and all."

"It's Ok. I promise."

"I love you very much, Robin."

"I love you too. Always will."

"Robin." Erin yawned.

She snapped back into the present. Her tenth birthday was last best day she ever had - the last day her mother would stay sober. "Oh, hey Erin," Robin said. Removing her hand from the precious metal, she flashed a convincing smile.

"That's a pretty necklace." Erin pointed to the gold cross across Robin's upper chest.

"Thanks." Her focus needed to be on keeping her feelings away.

"Daddy's up."

Robin couldn't help but notice the guarded tension behind the girl's eyes. Maybe there was something going on after all, like she had thought.

"Well, I'm gonna get changed okay. Don't come in our room alright?"

"Oh, sure. Not a problem."

Descending the squeaky wooden staircase, Robin avoided the nails poking askew. At the base of the stairs, she rounded the corner searching for the kitchen.

Mr Bishop was still in his pyjamas. He leant against the counter with his phone in his hand. His face wore a scowl.

Robin didn't want to be at the receiving end of his scowl or anything negative that would result, so she stepped back. The floorboard creaked beneath her weight making her jump.

He didn't even flinch. Turning around, he set down his phone. "You're up!"

Her chest seized as she nodded. "Good morning, Mr Bishop."

"Morning, Robin. Take a seat on the couch, please. I need to explain some rules I have in my house." Taking the left cushion, he plopped down on the right with his coffee now in hand.

She smelt the French Vanilla as it wafted into her nostrils. Even though she wasn't a coffee person, Robin loved the scent.

He waved his hand, she blinked and turned her warm cheeks to the floor. "Glad you're finally listening to me. First, curfew is at ten. Second, I don't want to see your room a mess. Chores will be shared between you and Erin, so you can work that out with her. Lastly, absolutely no singing. I don't like it, and I don't wanna hear it. Do that, and we won't have a problem, got it?" He was blunt, leaving no room for - anything.

'The last one is strange, but I guess everyone has their pet peeves, no matter how ridiculous,' Robin thought. She figured at least it would work out. Her parents never liked listening to her. "Not a problem, sir."

"Good, then we won't have any issues." He clapped his hands and stood up. "I need to leave for work soon. There's a list of chores by the fridge, and the neighbours will check in on you guys to make sure you're okay," he explained. "Oh, and make sure dinner is prepared by the time I get home. Dinner prep is on the fridge."

"Ok." The remainder of the morning was uneventful. Erin joined them in the kitchen just as her father was heading out the door.

"Lock the doors. See ya, later, alligator."

Erin lit up. "Walk a mile, crocodile!"

With a gentle kiss, Mr Bishop was out the door.

∞

Everyday promised the same routine. Mr Bishop woke around six, got dressed, retrieved the daily paper and read until Erin and Robin came downstairs. He'd eat his breakfast and leave. Upon returning home, dinner would be prepared and served. Afterwards, Mr Bishop retired to his office and only showed up to usher the girls to bed. However, each day also promised new expectations. Granted, it was a far cry from the ones Robin fulfilled when her parents were alive.

In terms of relationships and bonding, Erin and Robin enjoyed each others company. At first, it was easy to only engage in small talk for Robin. By day three, however, Robin could tell Erin itched for conversation. Robin understood and even she had to admit that she wanted it to interact. The need to not get close was dying with time and many lonely hours spent together.

Robin's first week was nearly up, and she could not stand the silence anymore. Erin needed someone to talk to just as badly as Robin craved it. 'It's only one person,' Robin promised herself.

A/N: I want to dedicate this chapter to ItalRt4U and her amazing story Courage Under Duress. Take a look at it if you want, it's really good! Warning, it does contain domestic violence.