38. Dollie—age seven
Dollie—age seven
I t feels like a very long time since Ambrose walked up those stairs.
I’ve heard every scream, but the crocodile stops me from trying to get to him. The deeper water is over my head now. The bucket we use bobs by me when another scream cuts through the air.
“Ambrose!” I whisper shout.
The pain in his voice hurts my soul, and tears are pouring from my eyes. “I need you. Please, be okay. I need you.”
“He’ll be okay, he’ll be okay.” I nod, rocking myself on the tiny step.
Losing my footing, my leg slips into the water, and the mean crocodile rushes for me.
Screaming, I try to scare him away, but it doesn’t work. Only an inch away from his snapping jaw, my leg flies out of the water.
I can’t stop myself from rocking again, repeating those same words, but then silence falls upstairs.
“Ambrose?”
And a feeling comes from nowhere. A loss that I don’t know how to understand.
He won’t answer me.
He can’t answer me.