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Robby laid on his bed for the rest of the night after the cave in. Johnny had attempted in vain to get him to come out of his room to talk, or even to just eat dinner. In the end, Johnny decided to let Robby have his time. He believed that his son would come to him when he was good and ready.
Johnny had no idea just how wrong he was.
At about 8:00, when it was clear that Robby wasn’t planning on coming out of his room that night, Johnny came in with a plate of freshly reheated food. Robby didn’t move from where he was curled in the fetal position on his bed. He didn’t even seem to notice that Johnny had come into the room.
Johnny patted Robby on the head gently, kissed the top of his head, and went out of Robby’s room, closing the door behind him.
Johnny didn’t usually show this much affection, but he was really worried about Robby. The kid had been in his room all night and hadn’t said a word since Johnny had first come to pick up him and Miguel.
Robby closed his eyes after his father left and sighed heavily. He wanted nothing more than to cut himself right now, but he knew he couldn’t. No, he knew he shouldn’t.
So, he stayed curled up on his bed, terrified of what might happen if he tried to move. Terrified that his only instinct would be to find something sharp and hurt himself.
He had been doing relatively well for so long, but now it seemed to be crumbling down around him.
Robby knew that he needed help. He knew that he should tell his father what was going on in his mind, what he did to himself and what he wanted to do to himself.
But Robby wasn’t going to do that.
He wasn’t ready to face his father’s wrath. Or abandonment. Whichever ended up happening.
Robby couldn’t face it.
So, he stayed curled up in the fetal position on his bed, doing everything in his power not to get up and hurt himself.
Again, and again, and again.