116. Gardening and memories

REBECCA

I've been bedridden for a few days. I took the rest of my exams online with a supervisor assigned to me. It went smoothly despite the chaos of a few days but I didn't want anything to weigh me down.

If I wasn't reading, I caught myself staring into space, thinking of my child and how he managed to survive.

“I guess this one is really stubborn, isn't he?” I thought to myself. Just like his damn daddy. At least that was one way to know the baby was Oliver's.

Despite seeing my condition, he still kept his mouth shut.

Most nights I woke up from a nightmare, screaming the house down. It was always the same scene, only this time instead of the strange man who stabbed me, it was Oliver's grandfather while I watched Oliver stand at a distance with either his sealed or he rendered endless apologies instead.

I was sick of hearing him apologise. I was tired of it. It burned in my memory and now whenever I thought about him, it was always about him saying sorry.

Funny how he used to do f