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And in fact that was exactly what she loved to do in her spare time. Until a few months ago Liz was a registered nurse at the Irvine Care Center. She had been in charge of the graveyard shift. It was there that Liz was with me every evening for months. I had lived in a world of darkness because I couldn’t open my eyes without help. I could see light if a doctor or nurse held my eyelids open but even then I couldn’t focus and everything was a blur. I didn’t need my eyes to function for me to picture Elizabeth’s beauty. I had previously known her and I could always picture her face in my mind. However, I needed to hear her voice and feel her touch because they were my sustenance. She was the one who helped me to fight my way back from the edge of insanity. There were other nurses and orderlies at Irvine Care, and most of them had been respectful of my needs while I was comatose. But it was always Elizabeth who I wanted to care for me. The trial had triggered so many memories in the. Come on, Cassidy. It’s just a house. She wanted to think that. She wanted to pretend that what had happened hadn’t happened but she had the scars to prove it. Why couldn’t we have just been a normal family? Because her father was an alcoholic. Because her father was a wife beater. Because her father was a child molester. Because she’d shot him 15 years ago. The screen door slammed shut and she jumped as if it was the shot she’d fired so long ago. It echoed in her mind and the smell of cordite burned in her nostrils. It had been his .45 that she had found hidden in the ratty folds of the his recliner and she remembered how her heart had pounded in her chest as she gingerly handled the silver gun, her dirty, bitten fingernails rubbing the long barrel as if it spoke to her. Security, it said. Freedom, it whispered. And she listened. The stairs going up to her room creaked in all the very same places as before as she traced the steps that her drunken father would take. She would be lying.
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