Well I’m terrified of these four walls
These iron bars can’t hold my soul in
Come please, I’m calling
And I’ll show you what I can be
I’ll leave this life behind me
Say it if it’s worth saving me
Hurry, I’m falling
~ ‘Savin’ Me’ by Nickelback
Chapter 12
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mouri. I can’t disclose any information regarding Robyn to anyone other than close family.”
“I knew her very well when she was a child, she frequently played with my son,” Mrs. Mouri explained as patiently as she could. “And I’m interested in fostering her myself. Since she is originally from Japan, is there any way -“
“I’m afraid not. She has been in the United States for many years, and we believe it would be detrimental to her if we took her out of the care system she’s used to and placed her in a country she hasn’t lived in since elementary school.”
“But she knows me-“
“I understand that. We are aware that you played a crucial role in taking her out of a dangerous living situation, and you have the foster care system’s gratitude, as well as Robyn’s, I’m sure. I completely understand that you would continue to be interested in her well being, and I can assure you that wherever she is living right now, she is fine. Unfortunately, I can’t give you any more information than that. I am truly sorry.”
Mrs. Mouri thanked the foster home’s representative for his time before hanging up. She let out a sigh and tried to keep the almost crushing disappointment at bay. Every time she thought she was making progress, she hit another brick wall. How could it be that someone she cared for so much could just seemingly disappear and be so difficult to find again? How hard was it to find one girl?
“Mum?”
Cye. Mrs. Mouri tried to collect herself and school her expression before she turned around with a bright smile. “Hello, darling. Oh, hello, Kento.”
“Hey, Mrs. Mouri!” Kento waved. The two boys walked into the kitchen, and she was starkly reminded at how much older they were getting. Cye was slowly changing from lanky to just plain tall, and Kento had quite the presence, making the kitchen seem smaller the minute he walked in. She always wondered why that boy never went out for sports. Mrs. Mouri watched, amused, as Kento headed straight for the refrigerator, opening the freezer and sticking his head in.
“Find anything good in there?” she asked him.
Kento turned his head and grinned at her. “Did you go to the store this time instead of Cye?”
“I made a quick trip there.”
“Cause there’s Freeze Pops in here! Cye, why don’t you ever buy these?”
“It’s flavored ice, Kento.”
“Don’t tell me you never sucked down ten of these when you were a kid.” Kento began rummaging through the box, picking out every different color he could find. Cye folded his arms and watched, torn between amusement and irritation.
“Kento, we’re supposed to meet the others at the restaurant. Mum, why did you buy those?”
“Sayoko’s visiting soon. I wanted my grandchildren to have some treats.”
Kento laughed. “Cye, you’ve just been replaced as ‘favorite child’. How does it feel?”
Mrs. Mouri chuckled, and Cye shook his head with a small smile of his own. He looked at his mother, and even though she was laughing, he could tell something was wrong. A frown began to form on Cye’s face. Had she been upset?
“Mum?” Cye asked. She looked at him expectantly. “Everything all right?”
She nodded and smiled. It was peculiar how uncanny Cye was at picking up her moods. “Of course. Nothing to worry about.”
Cye wouldn’t be shaken so easily. He leaned his hip against the counter and gave her the critical look only a child can give his parent. “You look tired. Have you been spending too much time in the workshop again?”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her son. “No, love. Everything’s fine. Go on, go out to eat and I’ll see you tonight.”
He looked ready to press the subject when Kento grabbed his arm. “Come on, man, you’re the one who’s so gung ho on leaving.” With an armful of Freeze Pops, he led Cye out the door and said goodbye to Mrs. Mouri.
“She would’ve told me what was wrong,” Cye protested when they were outside.
Kento shrugged and ripped open the top of one of the Freeze Pops. “I doubt it. You never do.” He bit off a chunk of the orange tinted ice, the flavor of oranges bursting on his tongue. “Man, I miss eating these.”
“They’re going to melt in the car.”
“I’ll put them in one of the freezer’s when we get to the restaurant, chill.” Kento took another bite as he climbed into the driver’s seat and Cye reluctantly returned to the passenger seat. “So you think something’s wrong with your Mom?”
Cye sighed. “I’ve no idea. She’s been preoccupied with something lately, and she refuses to tell me what it is.” Kento held out his fistful of Freeze Pops to Cye, who shook his head.
“Come on. You know you want one.”
Cye stared at the treats before giving in and pulling out a blue Freeze Pop. He spoke as he ripped the top open. “She goes from being happy one day, and I come home and suddenly she’s . . . disappointed about something.” He took a bite of the ice, and made a small sound of contentment as the tropical flavor filled his mouth. “And she’s been on the phone a lot. She thinks I don’t pick up on these things, but I do. It worries me.”
“Like she said, man.” Kento turned on the engine, revved it, and pulled out into the street while Cye instinctively clutched his seat with one hand. “Don’t worry about it. If it’s a big deal, she’ll tell you.” Kento turned the corner one-handed and pressed his foot down on the gas.
“There’s a garbage can right there, Kento!”
“I see it, Cye!”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Robyn woke up when someone sat on her stomach. Her breath whooshed out painfully as the weight dropped on her middle and her eyes flew open.
“Morning, Robyn!”
Thora grinned from on top of the redhead, her shiny blonde hair pulled back away from her face. She’d changed out of the clothes she had been living in for the past week, and apparently showered before Robyn woke up because her hair was damp.
Robyn’s annoyance at being woken up faded as she realized the depressive episode was over - Thora had officially stepped back into manic. Thank God. Relieved, Robyn grinned and made a half hearted attempt at pushing Thora off.
“Hi, Thora. Can you not sit on me?”
Thora laughed and shook her head. “But I want to. You’ve been sleeping all morning and I’ve been awake forever! I’ve been acting like such a creep lately, I’m really sorry.”
“You couldn’t help it. Now get up, I have to pee.”
“Okay.” Thora bounced off, sunlight glinting off of her bright hair, and instead of settling onto her bed like Robyn thought she would, the blonde proceeded to follow her out of the room and to the bathroom.
“I want to watch a movie tonight. Maybe Cinderella. Hey, did you know my parents are coming to visit soon? I’m so glad I feel better, I didn’t want to be like that when they come. And you can meet them! You’ll like my mom; she brings me cookies and little presents. Her sugar cookies are amazing, and you can probably have some if she brings them. She might make oatmeal raisin, though…”
Robyn listened, half relieved to hear Thora’s nonsensical chatter again and half annoyed that the girl felt the need to follow her into the bathroom. She listened to Thora speak of her parents, Disney movies, this dog she used to have, the way Evan made her so angry, and other blather while Robyn went to the bathroom and washed her hands. It felt like Thora was trying to make up for the past week and a half of barely speaking, and trying to cram the lost time into one day of incessant chatter.
Half a day of that started to wear on Robyn, and by two o’ clock, after coming back from the therapist’s office and having Thora pounce on her with more prattle, Robyn sorely wished to go visit Regan. When Regan talked, it was much more relaxed, as if she had all the time in the world to say what she needed to say. Although, going to visit Regan felt a little awkward now. She’d told her story, and she wasn’t sure if Regan believed her. Robyn knew that Regan tried, but what she went through was something that was hard to transmit into just words. Regan wouldn’t understand unless she saw, and Robyn hoped it never came to that.
In the end, Thora was driving her slowly crazy, so Robyn put in the request to Angelina to see Regan. Angelina phoned it in, and when she came back to Robyn, she said, “She’s been moved back to her room, but she’s in a session with a therapist right now. It’ll be about twenty minutes.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The quiet ticking of a clock was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Two large windows along the back wall let in shafts of bright sunlight, illuminating the wooden floors and rosewood furniture until it gleamed. Dust mites hung in the air, visible through the bright light; floating slowly down to rest on the rich wooden desk that separated two of the people in the room. The other two; men in white uniforms stood on either side of the door, faces expressionless as they watched the practically still forms in front of them.
Dr. Rothchild didn’t take his eyes off of his patient. Regan was small in the rather large leather chair, arms resting loosely on the arm rests and hands dangling off the edges. Her chair was in between the two windows in the room, but the sunlight still hit her, causing her dark hair to gleam in the natural light and making her look down or over to avoid the glare. He was certain she was still feeling the affects of the medicine she was being constantly fed. Every so often, Rothchild felt a twinge of guilt over the doses of muscle relaxants and sedatives she received in her sleep and during the day, but then he would review the tapes of her feats and a dread would fill him. He knew, however, that all Dr. Corbett saw was extreme potential, and it made Dr. Rothchild terribly nervous.
Countless times he had wondered whether it was wise to continue these tests on her - not just the physical and mental tests, but the genetic studies and such that Corbett tried to keep under the table from him, but Rothchild knew Corbett was too much like a twelve year old boy with free reign on a sick puppy to operate on, so he knew Corbett would push as much as he could without Regan’s knowledge. Corbett believed they could coax her into unleashing what was in her; Rothchild knew it would not be that easy. That was what he feared.
He was positive her abilities were stunted by the medication. He held the readouts on Regan’s physical state during the use of her ability in front of him. Quietly, he perused them while Regan occasionally watched him out of the corner of her eye.
Her body should have showed signs of the stress she put her mind under, but they didn’t. A slight rise in heartbeat, nearly no rise in metabolic rate, and next to no caloric burn. She burned as many calories lifting the heavy machinery in a warehouse - all of them - as someone would doing half a dozen sit ups. The only side effect she suffered from was using her empathic abilities.
He looked at Regan again, who was now staring calmly back, and Rothchild felt another twinge of unease. If Regan could lift half a dozen units of heavy machinery without breaking a sweat, what did they think she was capable of if she actually tried? When Rothchild caught her looking at him like she was now, he got the feeling that perhaps what she was doing was something they were never intended to learn about. He hated himself for thinking it, having a daughter of his own, but after watching the tapes, he could look at that child and think it would be better if she were neutralized.
Regan couldn’t stop staring at the windows. At first, the brightness had badly hurt her eyes, and she had to keep her head down and blink furiously to adjust them to the light. But once adjusted, she simply could not tear her eyes away from the radiant light pouring in. She wondered if it was warm out. She could feel the daylight coming in and warming her skin, and Regan could honestly sit there all day if the doctor would let her. It was warm on her hair, too, and she resisted the urge to touch the top of her head to feel it; to sink her fingers in and feel how the sun warmed her hair against her fingertips. She wanted to be out there.
Since meeting Robyn, she was becoming more and more agitated and dissatisfied with herself than ever. She was beginning to realize that she had let herself accept this place and this situation as something she would never be able to overcome, and that was a side of herself she hated. Robyn made her want to try again. It had been a long time since she’d met someone with such a …passion for life. Even though Robyn herself was unhappy, scared, and had a great deal of guilt riding on her conscious, Regan still got the feeling that none of that was causing Robyn to stop at a standstill, like it had herself. It didn’t help that Regan had been here for so long, and after trying to leave so many times, she became easily frustrated and more wary of hurting people. That fear of becoming out of control with this kept Regan from doing a lot of things, and she suspected that wasn’t any healthier.
Regan’s thoughts were interrupted when Dr. Rothchild finally spoke. “I have put in a request, Regan, for a sleep study to be done within the next few days. Perhaps we can find a way to maintain your shields better when you sleep.” She didn’t respond, and he sighed. “Dr. Corbett believes -”
“Why am I here?” she suddenly asked. For once, her eyes took on some life instead of staring right through the man, and she looked almost desperate for an answer.
“You are here because you’re gifted.”
There was a long pause, and then: “I don’t like hearing that. Let’s try this again. Why am I here?”
Rothchild stiffened at her tone. “You must understand that we’re only trying to learn how you’re able to do this, to better help you cope-“
Liar, you’re all liars. Months of pent-up anger welled to the surface again, and with extreme effort, Regan shoved it back. “You don’t want to learn about my ability, you want it to stop. And Dr. Corbett wants to figure out how to use it. This isn’t what I want; I want out of here.” Her voice grew steadily lower, so only he could hear her, and in the effort to keep her emotions at bay, the desk underneath Dr. Rothchild’s hands vibrated. He snatched his hands away as if from a hot stove, and looked warily around the room as the walls seemed to catch the same vibration.
A pressure he hadn’t been aware of before left the back of his head, and Rothchild breathed out shakily. “Let’s take you back to your room.”
Regan had a sudden vivid mental image of destroying the glass in the windows and just leaping out - never mind that they were in a third story office. She was pretty positive she would be fine - it was daylight, sure, but the forest wasn’t all that far away. While the thought was appealing, and it almost made her want to get to her feet and try it, she realized that half-assed planning like that would only get her so far. She would get caught again. And she wasn’t sure if she just wanted to leave Robyn. Her stomach clenched at the thought of leaving the only friend she had in here and possibly not seeing her again. There had to be a way to get both of them out of here.
Regan smiled a little. She was starting to sound like Robyn. Perhaps the girl’s enthusiasm was catching.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”
“John. McCarthy.” The dark haired young man smiled at the social worker congenially. “Technically, Robyn and I would have been cousins, because my aunt took her in. I was wondering if I could see her.”
Karen smiled uncertainly, and then shook her head. She wasn’t sure where it came from, but she had an uneasy feeling about the way he was smiling at her. Perhaps it was the eyes. She had known many troubled teens throughout her years in social work, but this one …
“I’m sorry, Robyn’s not here any longer. She was transferred.”
Something in the young man’s blue eyes flickered, and Karen found her hand straying under the desk towards the phone. “Where was she transferred to?”
“I’m not allowed to say, Mr. McCarthy.”
Jason took in a deep breath. “Look, my aunt took care of her for a while. She’s curious about where Robyn is.”
“Then she can come in herself and find out.”
Jason nodded slowly, fighting back the urge to lunge on the woman and demand she tell him where the hell Red was. Maybe Sheila was right and she should have come in. It didn’t matter anyhow, he thought sourly, this broad wasn’t going to give him anything. He thanked her for her time and walked off towards the entrance. He slowed, however, as he passed by a few hallways that led down to the rooms the foster children stayed in. A few were in the hallway.
Jason looked back to Karen; the woman was still watching him. Shit. He looked back to the entrance and kept walking very slowly; when he looked back, she had turned her back to dial a number. Jason pivoted and walked down a hallway lined with doors to rooms; two girls were coming out of what looked like a bathroom.
“Hey,” he said to get their attention. The two looked over; a blonde and a brunette. “Do either of you remember a Robyn McCarthy staying here?” The blonde frowned, and both shook their heads at the name. “Green eyes, bright red hair -“
“Her name’s Robyn?” The brunette spoke up.
“You knew her?” Jason asked, feeling excitement well up at the prospect.
“She was here for like, a day about a month and a half ago. The red hair, it’s long, right? Real skinny?”
“Yes, that’s her. Where is she now?”
The brunette smiled, brown eyes lighting up in delight at the opportunity to tell someone about the weird girl who had to be drugged and taken away. “She was sent to Oakburg.”
Jason frowned. “Is that in New York?”
“Yeah.”
“A foster home?”
The brunette laughed, and Jason quelled another urge to smack someone, namely the brat in front of him. They were running out of time, and if this bitch didn’t tell him what he needed to know -
“It’s a mental hospital. They took her to an asylum.”
Jason stared at her. “Are you serious?” The implication and terrible humor of it filled him, and a smile grew on his face. “Red’s in a nut house?” Which means she might have told what happened, and instead of believing her, they threw her in a mental hospital. Oh, this was rich. Much better than Jason had hoped for.
He thanked the brunette for the information, and hurried out of New York Foundling. Derek was relaxing in the driver’s seat of his car, and Sheila was leaning against it, sandaled feet leaning against the curb and sunglasses on to ward off the bright sunlight.
“Did you get anything?” she asked, abandoning the task of chipping off some of her red nail polish and turning her thoughts from what color she should paint them next to what was going on in the present.
Jason ignored her as he opened the driver’s door and pulled Derek out of the driver’s seat.
“Hey!”
Derek barely had time to rush over to the passenger’s seat and get in at the same time as Sheila before Jason put the car in drive and sped off. Sheila and Derek talked most of the way to Kortez’s, mainly trying to wheedle Jason for information, but he kept stubbornly silent the entire way there.
When they arrived, he stepped out of the car and tossed Derek his keys back.
“I could’ve driven,” the gangly boy said, mouth pulled down in a sulk.
“Not fast enough,” Jason replied, and as he looked at them, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
“I told you he found her!” Sheila crowed, slapping Derek on the back and following Jason with a cheshire grin into the dilapidated house Kortez had chosen for a home. The priest was waiting in the front room for them.
“Did you find her?”
“Yes,” Jason confirmed.
Kortez hissed in a breath in satisfaction, which turned to a dry laugh when Jason informed him of where Robyn was being held. “We will leave tomorrow night.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Robyn?”
“Hmm?” She looked in the direction of the voice and found herself staring at the resident group therapist. The older woman smiled when their eyes met.
“Do you have anything to add?”
Suddenly feeling like she was in school again, Robyn stared blankly. “What . . . what was the question?”
There were a few snickers around the circle of girls, but the woman only smiled patiently.
“How have you felt about your stay here so far? How have you been?”
“Brain dead, obviously,” Evan said, rousing the rest of the girls into laughter.
Robyn felt her cheeks redden, and she glared at the smirking blonde before looking down. How did she feel about this place? About waking up around five times a night because of checks? Waiting for the day Evan or Daniela finally got theirs because if it didn’t happen within the next week or two, Robyn just might commit homicide via plastic fork the next time they had to eat together? Did she like constantly taking the PTSD drugs and sleep medicine, Or talking to therapists everyday, or living on the same floor with the craziest girls Robyn had ever met?
No. She didn’t much care for it.
So Robyn shrugged. “I don’t really like it.”
“Why not?” The group therapist and Thora asked at the same time.
Robyn raised an eyebrow. “Because it’s a mental hospital. Am I supposed to enjoy myself?”
“Robyn, our goal here is to make you well again.”
For reasons Robyn couldn’t explain, hearing that brought a lump to her throat. There was nothing this woman could do to make her well again -she was afraid there was nothing anyone could do.
“There isn’t enough medicine in the world to cure Robyn’s problem,” Evan snarked, halting Robyn’s melancholy mood and once again irritating the redhead. Evan lived to get a rise out of Robyn, and from the way the blonde smiled at her, she knew she was succeeding.
“Pot and kettle, Evan,” Robyn smiled sweetly.
“I’ve come to terms with being insane, red riding hood,” Evan replied easily. “You’re apparently still in denial.”
“Evan,” the group therapist warned.
“I’m not -”
“Crazy?” Evan leaned forward in her chair, making sure she had Robyn’s full attention. “The girl who yells about demons in her sleep isn’t crazy?” Robyn paled as Evan voiced it for the group. “Quit acting like you don’t belong here, because you do. You’re living in a mental hospital, and everyone’s gonna know it for the rest of your life. It doesn’t matter if you’re crazy or not - which you are - people are always gonna think there’s something wrong with you.”
“Girls -”
“Could you two shut the hell up about each other?” Daniela snapped at both of them, casting them both a dark glare from where she had been trying to nap. “Jesus, either beat the hell out of each other or make out already.”
This sent the girls into uneasy laughter after Evan’s tirade, and Robyn heard every snicker. She was fairly shaking in her seat. This was just like high school - even here, she couldn’t get away from the cruel remarks. Even as Evan’s remarks made her angry, her comments filled her with a curious amount of shame and the certainty that Evan was partially right. She couldn’t erase the fact that she was in a mental hospital and apparently a good amount of people thought she belonged here - but she didn’t. Evan was not right, there was nothing wrong with her. Even as she thought that, Kortez’s voice came back to her, whispering to her you are tainted. Robyn fought off a shudder.
As Evan laughed at her from her seat across the circle, Robyn fixed her with a dark glare before turning her head away, still feeling flushed from anger and embarrassment as the group therapist took control of the girls again. She could not wait to get out of here.
At the end of that excruciating visit, Robyn sped walked to her room and tried to ignore Thora’s attempts at making Robyn feel better, which consisted of petting Robyn’s hair and offering to get her cookies from the cafeteria. Instead, Robyn just waited for Angelina to come and tell her that Regan was back on the floor. Robyn didn’t have to wait long, and with some relief, she followed the orderly to the girl’s room.
When Robyn was allowed into Regan’s room, however, she found the room empty.
“Wait -“ she whirled to catch the orderly, but he had already shut the door. Robyn let out a breath and turned back around to the small, empty room. “Regan?” she called, feeling slightly stupid.
The sound of a flushing toilet made her breathe a sigh of relief, and the door hidden by the wooden dresser opened. Regan stepped out, and when she spotted Robyn she gave her a small albeit genuine smile. “Hi, Robyn.”
“Hey,” Robyn smiled back. “Glad to be back here?”
“More or less.” Regan felt the carpet under her toes, curled them into it, and then corrected herself with a “Yes.” She paused near her bed and looked at Robyn. The redhead was smiling and happy to see her, but she was upset.
“What happened?” Regan asked.
The two girls sat down on Regan’s bed, and for once, Robyn was grateful for Regan’s gift to know when something was wrong. Robyn immediately flowed into what had been happing in a few of her group sessions of the past few days, particularly today’s. When Robyn ran out of complaints on Evan and Daniela being the bane of her group therapy existence, she stopped talking and looked so forlorn about it that Regan had to smile.
“Remember that Evan is a sociopath,” Regan said. “She says those things because it amuses her and she doesn’t care how it makes you feel.” Robyn was looking down at her feet, and Regan bit her lip, realizing Robyn’s real problem. “Hey.” She waited for Robyn’s eyes to meet hers. “You’re not crazy,” she said honestly. “Not in the least. Of the two of us, I’m probably more unstable.” That pulled a small smile from Robyn.
Robyn changed the subject a few moments later, turning it back to Regan as she asked a few probing questions for more information.
Regan knew what Robyn was doing, and she supposed it was only fair. Robyn had told Regan a great deal, after all. They carefully avoided the subject of Robyn’s encounter with the demon, mainly because Regan didn’t want to bring up a subject that would upset her more - instead, she answered Robyn’s questions.
“So you’re from France,” Robyn said. She’d stretched herself out on Regan’s bed, feet dangling off the edge as she stared up at the ceiling. Regan had moved to the floor, resting her back against the bed as she leaned her own head against the edge. “Where in France?”
“Just outside of Toulouse. I lived there until I was eight.”
“With your father?”
“…No. With my mother. They never married. My father was a US marine and met my mother when he was stationed in France. They had a . . . falling out when I was about a year old, and when my father was stationed somewhere else, she refused to go with him. My mother got primary custody because of that.” Please change the subject, Regan willed silently.
Robyn must have picked up that it was a sore subject; probably in the way Regan’s shoulders had tensed, because she could feel them release their tension when Robyn veered off onto another subject. Just once, Regan would have liked the courage to actually voice that part of her life, but now apparently was not the time.
“Would you be in college if you weren’t here?” Robyn asked, her voice softer.
Regan nodded. “I think so.”
“For what?”
“Maybe art.” She closed her eyes and tried to picture the schools she had been thinking of before this . . . the brochures she’d had and acceptance letters. She felt an ache begin to pulse in her chest. “I would live someplace away from the city, maybe on the beach in a place that I could make a studio in.”
“You like the ocean?”
“I learned how to surf in high school through a few friends. I’ve been doing it for a few years.” She’d almost forgotten, but thinking about it now made her miss the sport and the freedom in it badly.
Robyn snorted and shook her head. “I would kill myself doing that. I’m not a big fan of water. Or swimming, for that matter.” She could picture Regan doing it, though. She had the laid back demeanor of what Robyn had always thought surfer’s had. Regan had told her a week or two back that she’d been fostered out in California, close to Los Angeles, where she’d been living since about the age of twelve. It made Robyn sad that both of them were so far from their homes in this place.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Regan was protesting when Robyn came back to the conversation. “We used to surf at night on the weekends, and there was nothing like it.”
Robyn wrinkled her nose at the back of Regan’s head in distaste. “Nothing like it? Yeah. Nothing like drowning.”
Amused, Regan shook her head. “You can’t imagine the freedom of being out there.” The two fell silent for a moment, and Regan changed the subject. “You’ll go back to high school in the fall, then.”
“Yeah, my last year. Which I’m really looking forward to after this horrible summer.” Robyn rolled her eyes. “Why did you graduate early?”
“I was home schooled for a few years as a child. When I came to America and took their tests, I placed a grade ahead of my age.” Robyn was delighted to find out that Regan was home schooled while she lived with her father on base in India. She peppered Regan with dozens of questions about India, to which Regan was just as enthusiastic about answering. It made Robyn happy to know that talking about her father and living in India made Regan’s eyes light up, and she spoke willingly of the people she encountered over there, but most of all, her father. Robyn was glad that at least one of them had one decent parent, even if it was only for a little while, and Robyn couldn’t decide which was worse; never having a loving parent, or having one and then losing him.
When Robyn returned to her room a good hour and a half later, she could feel herself smiling. At least one good thing came from her stay here.