The Untold Tale of a Mother

i haven't been blogging much lately, coz i'm workin on this mini story. so far, i haven even managed to complete the first chapter, heheh...

i'm postin it here in hope of getting sum feedback frm u guys. feel free to comment.(but please be subtle, i'm fragile, heheh)

i know tat its lengthy, but i wud reali appreciate it if u spare sum time to read it (^_^)

“This is how it’s gonna end okay!”

“I’ll put this gun in your mouth, and you’re gonna say ‘Please’….. and then I’ll pull the trigger, and bam! That’s how its gonna end. We're clear about that.”

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“Mom! Mom! Take me home! I don’t wanna stay here anymore!”

I could hear the ear-splitting sound of the wheels on her chair, as it rolled in an exceedingly fast movement. It is as if I could see her thin shivery hands kept pressing on the metal wheels, spinning it with all the might that was left in her deteriorating little frame.

“Please mom, don’t leave me here again…. I don’t wanna be here! I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna die here, please… don’t leave me to die here…”

Her voice fainted together with the screeching noise of the metal wheels. I halted my hasty steps. In the fastest movement possible, I wiped away any trace of tears on my face with the left sleeve of my yellow blouse. Before I turned around to face her, I inhaled deeply.

There she was, sitting on her wheelchair, crestfallen. Her fragile framed was shivering from the frail but distinct whimpering. She had always been strong in front of others. Even when she overheard me quarreling with her father, and her own father shouted out that he could no longer stand the burden of supporting a wheelchair-bound daughter. Even when her father walked pass her and right through the door without even looking back. She was as strong as always, approaching me with a forceful smile on her face, whispering that everything will be all right, while tears were sliding down her colourless cheeks. But there she was whimpering, mumbling to herself.

“I don’t wanna die here… Please, don’t leave me here… alone… please…”

I took another deep breath in order to soothe the gush of emotions that was trying to break free from inside of me.

“You’re not gonna die here. Nobody is going to die!”

She slowly lifted her head and stared at me, as if it was the first time she’d ever saw me.

“You’re not gonna die and I’m not leaving you here to die. I’ll come back for you! You just have to stay here for a while. I need you to stay here for a while. But I’ll come back for you.”

I could see her eyes flickered with the faintest sign of hope. Stammering, she asked me whether I was being honest. She asked me to promise her that I would come back for her.

And I nodded. My emotions were precipitating inside, yearning to be released. I wasn’t sure whether she was really smiling, but I really thought I saw a hint of the faintest smile on her face then, before I turned around and left her there. I left her on that long shadowy corridor, and never turn back.

“When was the last time you’ve seen your daughter Mrs. Clement?”

“It’s Ms. Clement officer. And I’ve never seen her again, not ever since I left her at the St. Joseph nursing center.” I can’t help but be irritated by the officer’s way of addressing me. As a matter of fact, it’s been quite a while since anyone had ever refer to me as a Mrs. Not that it should be anywhere on the top of my list of worries right now, but it annoys me and I just can’t help but let it get to me, especially now.

“Wait, let me get this straight. So you’re saying that you’ve never visited your daughter at the facility? Not even once?” His eyebrows are frowning in the most skeptical way humanly possible. And the air around us freeze, as if I was the cure to global warming.

I can’t respond to that, at least not with words. I nod.

There it comes, the judgmental stares that I’ve foreseen coming whenever this issue is brought up. Thankfully I have prepared myself for it.

“You heartless imbeciles! You’re supposed to be feeling bottomless sympathy for me. I’m the woman with the handicapped daughter missing for god’s sake!” The inner me shouted. I think now would be the time for me to shed a heartbroken tear or two, it’s only proper right?

“Please promise me you’ll find her, please officer! She out there alone now, helpless… Please! Where could she be…” I’m sure that I’m putting up a very convincing performance now. If there is an audience right here right now, they would be cheering for me to win one of those golden nude statues…

Then suddenly, a flash of thoughts strikes me out of the blue.

WAIT! What am I doing? Sherry’s out there right now, missing! What was I thinking? I should not be worried about what these people think about me. Fuck these people! I need to find Sherry! I need to save her from whatever it is she’s going through right now…

“Officers, can you please leave now. I have other businesses to attend to.”

The layer of thin ice that was shielding me from their ever judgmental attitude melted in an instance. The police officers stare at me with deep perplexed looks, as if the sudden change of tone was too much for them to fathom.

“Well, sure Mrs…. I mean Miss Clement. We will keep you informed if we find any lead on your daughter’s whereabouts.”

“I would really appreciate that. Now let me see you all to the door.”

As I close the door behind me, I splatter my back against the door and was aghast at the few minutes that I’ve lost my thoughts just now. What kind of mother am I! I should be worried to death about my missing daughter right now. No! I am worried to death!

I dash to the washroom, almost bumping into the semi-closed door. My mind is frantic, my palms are sweaty, my eyes are twinging. I reach out my hands, even though they are quivering like jelly on a roller coaster, and open the medicine cabinet to grab hold of a white capped orange bottle. Impulsively, I void the entire bottle onto my sweaty right palm. My shaky left fingers sift out two pills, as if their the chosen ones and just shoves them into my widely-opened mouth.

As I swallow the pills and wash it down with plenty of saliva that seems to taste like sweat, I stared at the reflection on the cabinet.

‘It must be the drugs, these damn mother-fuckin pills!’

As if blaming them for my lack of remorse in such situations would in effect, diminish this trivial sense of guilt I’m feeling underneath all the fear and anger.

‘They’re making me numb… making me less human… these damn pills!’

For a split second, I actually think that someone had plotted with the doctors and nurses who has been feeding me with more and more pills, to destroy my life and that of the people around me.