Page 171 - The Houseguest

stretched it out to retrieve the photo. “My baby!” she screamed, as if in true physical pain. “Oh, God...my baby girl!” He was happy to see at least, that her devotion was enough to break through even the most intense drug trip. That had to mean something.
“Yes, your baby girl...your baby girl who needs you right now.” He struggled for the right words to say not wanting to lose this odd communication connection. “Come back with me and be her mother again” he implored. She asks for you, and she cries for you at night.” Unexpectedly, she became enraged. Her face reddened and her mouth grimaced with intense anger. She began screaming at him: “Your father! Your father! He is an animal! This is all HIS fault! I cannot go back there! He told me he’d kill me if I ever went back there. You bring her here to me!” Brian knew that growing up with a drunkard and a loser like him was better than being raised under a bridge by a hopeless addict. So, he walked away with the echoes of her mournful wails ricocheting off walls of her home underneath the bridge. Those cries haunted him for years. Should he have gone back and tried again? He’ll never know.
The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life
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