If Only in My Dreams

            Roxanne awoke to light snowflakes against her face and breast, melting at the touch of her bloody but warm skin. She couldn’t say that she knew where she was, or even how she came to be there, but she did know that she had been beaten into unconsciousness; her body ached all over, more so between her legs. It took her a while to realize that the siren she heard was coming for her. Roxanne could see a little boy pointing through the trees at her partially naked body that throbbed with pain. Lying on her back, she could see a cold gray sky. The ground was partially covered with snow, as if it had just started to fall. Tall trees that seemed to touch the sky with their naked branches, twisting and turning, surrounded her, their leaves gone with the touch of the cold winter’s air. Turning her head from the strong breeze that blew snow and dead leaves about her bruised and swollen face, Roxanne could see what appeared to be the body of a child partially buried, but that couldn’t be true, could it? Eagerly looking, she saw it. The loud purple fingernail polish that covered her tiny nails was the same polish that Roxanne also wore.

            She attempted to scream but nothing came out; her vocal cords seemed to be paralyzed. Her head turned to the crunching sound of dry leaves and hurrying, approaching footsteps.

            “There she is!” the tall, graying paramedic exclaimed as he took long strides after meeting Roxanne’s gaze.

            The younger paramedic, not far behind, openly stated, “I hope we are not too late.”

            In his hurry to put Roxanne on the stretcher, her arm fell and she moaned in pain. The younger paramedic reexamining her noticed that her arm was broken.      “What animal could have done this to you?” he asked, not really expecting an answer from her but just speaking out loud.

            Roxanne could see the anger in the older paramedic’s face as his eyes narrowed into slits and his mouth tightened into a narrow line. She guessed it was because she was so young; she was only seventeen.

            Roxanne welcomed the warm blanket that draped her body and sent goose pimples all over her. They had lifted the stretcher and started to take her away, when her head fell in the direction of what she was sure was her sister. The older paramedic, watching Roxanne, followed her gaze and went to have a closer look. Making his way to the partially buried body that was only a few feet away, he knelt down and pushing away the leaves and the freshly fallen snow, paused before turning to his partner and shaking his head. That’s the last thing Roxanne remembered before slipping into unconsciousness.

            When she regained consciousness, she was in a room that smelled of alcohol and disinfectant. Crisp white sheets enveloped her body like a cast. Scanning the room, her eyes focused on a policeman standing in the corner of the room with her momma clinching a dirty handkerchief. Her face appeared to show grief. Her momma wore a pale blue worn-out dress that was stained in front from food and drink, obviously from the day before. On her feet, she wore black boots that reeked of old age, the same black boots that Roxanne had been trying to get her to discard for years. The slender policeman, tall and as dark as scorched chocolate, and with eyes just as dark as his skin, was trying not to upset Mabel anymore than she already appeared to be. He placed his hand on her shoulder nodding with understanding. They both turned in unison as Roxanne released a small moan almost covered by a sigh; Roxanne,s mother ran to her bedside, her bra strap showing its dingy color of mud.

            “Roxanne, how are you feeling?” Her eyes showed genuine concern. Roxanne could smell liquor on her breath.

            Looking at her but at the same time, looking right through her, she answered, “I’m fine.” Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow hard, repeating herself, “I’m fine. Where were you?” The words spewed out; Roxanne was not even really thinking about what she was asking.

            “What?” Drawing back a little, her mother looked puzzled, eyes opened wide and bloodshot as if she had just asked her to donate a kidney.

            “Where were you when this happened?”

            “Honey, don’t you remember?”

            “No. Mrs. Sanders, I am afraid she doesn’t.” the voice said, as its owner stood in the doorway with a stethoscope resting around his thick neck. He started towards the bed. The doctor stood tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build that showed through his crisp white lab coat. With graying temples and skin the color of creamed coffee, he spoke in an authoritative voice. “Roxanne doesn’t remember anything leading up to the attack; she took a pretty good blow to the head giving her a concussion.”

   &nbs