Memories. 

The cleaner looks nervously at Robin. "We're not supposed to tell you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Tears well up in Robin's eyes as she faces the women, who seem to wither at her pitiful gaze. "What did you mean? Please, you have to tell me," Robin pleads, her heart racing with a growing dread.

The other cleaner places a hand on Robin's arm, her expression sorrowful. "It's... it's about the baby," she says, swallowing hard. "You had a miscarriage, Robin. We weren't sure how to tell you, dear. It was all so sudden, and the doctors weren't certain... We wanted to spare you the pain."

Robin's world seems to tilt on its axis. She stands there, frozen, as the total weight of the news sinks in. 

 Tears spill down her cheeks, and a low, anguished wail escapes her lips. "No, no, no..." she cries, the devastation palpable in every syllable.

Robin's knees buckle, and she lets out another heartbreaking shriek, collapsing to the ground as sobs wrack her body. 

The cleaners look on helplessly, unsure of how to comfort her.

The sound of Robin's anguish pierces the air, and it's not long before Ramsey comes running out of his office, his brow furrowed with concern.

 "What's wrong?" he calls out, his gaze swiftly landing on the distraught Robin.

Seeing the cleaner's distress, Ramsey's expression shifts to alarm.

He rushes to Robin's side, his eyes searching hers. "Robin, what happened?" he asks, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

Robin turns to Ramsey, her entire body trembling. "The baby... my baby is... gone," she manages to choke out between sobs, collapsing into his arms as the total weight of her grief overwhelms her.

Ramsey holds Robin tightly, his own heart sinking at the news.

"I'm sorry Robin. I'm so sorry," he whispers.

Robin seems to sob harder.

He strokes her hair, murmuring soothing words as she cries, her tears soaking the front of his shirt. 

The two cleaners stand by, their expressions sombre, knowing they have been the bearers of this devastating news.

They remain like that for an eternity, Ramsey gently rocking Robin and murmuring soothing words as she pours out her anguish. Eventually, the intensity of her sobs begins to subside, and she grows still in his arms, exhaustion overtaking her.

"Please…"

At those words, Ramsey looks up, meeting the eyes of Mrs Seaford. The woman is pale, her eyes red-rimmed with tears as she stares down at him, "P-please, sir, take care of her," the woman says, misery practically etched in the lines of her shoulders.

Clasped in her hand is a simple bobby pin.

He nods, his throat tight, "I will."

Carefully, the man scoops the sleeping woman up and returns to the apartment, laying her gently on the bed. 

He watches over her, worries etched on his features, as Robin slips into a restless slumber.

**********

Time passes, and Robin spends the next few days in a state of solitude, not leaving the room, the loss of her child weighing heavily on her. She becomes thin, her appetite disappearing, despite Ramsey's constant pleas for her to eat. She spends hours staring at the TV, numb to the world.

One evening, Robin sits in her room, the soft glow of the television casting a flickering light on her face.

She stares blankly at the screen, her eyes red-rimmed from endless tears. Suddenly, her gaze sharpens as she sees her husband being congratulated on his recent marriage - a marriage that does not include her.

 Fresh tears spring to her eyes. Why her? What did she do to deserve all this? Why?!

The lump in her throat seems to grow.

Ramsey, who has been watching Robin, enters the room and quickly turns off the television, cutting off the image. He kneels beside Robin, his expression laced with concern. "Robin, you shouldn't be watching that," he says, his voice gentle.

Robin turns to Ramsey, her eyes vacant. "I was willing to put my past behind me, to start over... for the sake of our child," she whispers, her voice hollow. "But now... it's gone, and I have no purpose left."

Ramsey's heart breaks at her words. He reaches out, cupping her thin hand in his own. "That's not true, Robin. You have so much purpose, so much life left to live," he says, his voice firm yet compassionate.

Robin shakes her head, the light in her eyes dimming. Her gaze remains fixed on the now-dark television screen, her expression unreadable. 

"I just want to sleep," she murmurs, pulling her hands away from Ramsey's and curling up on the bed.

Ramsey watches her with a heavy heart, wishing he could take away her pain.

 He gently tucks the blanket around her and turns out the light, closing the door softly behind him as he leaves the room.

Later that night, Robin is again transfixed by the television, her eyes glued to the screen as she watches the news.

The soft glow of the television flickers in the darkened room, nearly making her look translucent. It's almost ghostlike in quality.

Suddenly, she sees the familiar car belonging to her husband pull up to a courthouse. 

Suddenly, a forgotten memory flashes in her mind – the wetness of rain.

In an instant, it all comes rushing back - the night she was hit by a car. Robin is transported back to that fateful moment, the scene playing vividly in her mind. She sees the car hurtling towards her, the sickening impact, the crushing pain

Robin's body tenses, her muscles coiling with a newfound intensity. 

The remote slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor as she begins to convulse, her mind trapped in a rerun of that night.

Ramsey, alerted by the commotion, rushes into the room, his eyes widening at the sight of Robin's distress. "Robin!" he calls out, his voice laced with panic as he moves to her side, unsure what to do.

Robin's eyes are wild, her gaze unfocused, and she seems lost. 

Ramsey reaches out, his hands trembling, as he tries to steady her, to bring her back to the present. 

He grabs her shoulders, trying to ground her. "Robin, can you hear me? It's Ramsey, you're safe here."

Robin's eyes are still unseeing and nearly glazed over, her body convulsing uncontrollably. 

Ramsey knows he needs to get her to snap out of this dissociative state before it spirals further.

He speaks to her firmly, "Robin, look at me. You're not back there; you're here with me, in my apartment. Focus on my voice."

But Robin is unresponsive, trapped in the grip of her memories, and Ramsey can only watch, helpless, as she slips into unconsciousness.

The room is silent, save for the distant hum of the television and the sound of Ramsey's ragged breathing. 

He gathers Robin into his arms, his heart racing with fear and concern as she gradually slips into unconsciousness.