One Shots, love Your Average Psychopathic Daydreamer x

1. Your mother's nightmare

She picked up her purse and the shopping bags from the passenger seat and whirred toward the door, clicking it open and trotting through the house to the dining table to place them there. She listened for a second, sighing heavily. The youngest was upstairs again...
'Why must I go through the hassle of working overtime to make sure we have enough to keep food in the cupboards. Rarely even healthy food at that. And then, I come home and can't hear anyone, because everyone has shut themselves away for the night again.'
She leaned on the banister to remove her shoes and put her jacket on the coat hook. She rubbed her eyebrow and took the bag of food upstairs. She leaned closer to the bedroom door of her youngest daughter to listen in before slowly opening it. She stepped in a little, but the only eyes that looked back at her were those on the band posters around the room. She turned back out of the room. "Honey!?"
"Yeah?" The reply of her partner sounded in a deep tone.
She skipped a few stairs as she hovered into the living room to ask where the youngest had got to.
"She never came home..."
"You don't know where she could've gotten to, do you?" The now concerned mother asked the older sibling, sat, back facing the arm of the chair and scrolling through the feed of something on their phone.
"I've not seen her since this morning. And she was all grouchy and stuck in a world of her own."
The mother recalled her youngest child's edgy behaviour that morning, shifting about and trying to leave the house earlier. She looked scared... 'I hope my baby is okay...?'
She turned out of the room again, left the pellets on the dining table, walked to the hallway mirror to untie her hair and dragged her fingers through it, sighing deeply. 'The animals she has because I could sense her growing lonelier... Maybe if she had something to look after, she'd be happier? Maybe she'd feel motherly and purposeful? I don't know, but I do know that I'm too stressed to feed those things myself right now.' She paced toward the kitchen in order to start up dinner.

•

Steam filled the kitchen and the smallest child still hadn't returned to her mother's side, the safety of their territory. Why? A thousand bullets glided through the matter of her mother's brain. Worrying, stressing, fearing. She clenched her fists closed and stretched out both hands before her, then reaching into the back pocket of her comfy jeans to retrieve her phone. Scrolling through the names until her eyes met one of the few names so truly close to her heart. She called her mobile. Ringing... Ringing... Ringing... Answer machine... And again. Ringing... Ringing... Ringing... Answer machine... One last time. No use.
She slapped her mobile back into the back jeans pocket and rushed upstairs to the bedroom of her sweetheart. She looked around, walked further into the bedroom. It felt like it'd been so long that she'd not been given weird looks for walking in; it had only been last night. She kept her eyes away from everything, anything. She didn't want to stumble across anything that assisted in blood-shed. But her face still looked as cold as it always does; no emotion. 'If my baby isn't home before dark, I'll go looking.' The mother turned and left, silently clicking the door shut behind her. She breathed. Everything would be okay. 'She's just at a friend's house. My precious is just with some friends. She's entirely okay.'

•

Dark arrived too late in the mother's mind. She checked that the sky had gone from purple navy to black ink, and rushed to the landline. She dialled her pretty's number first. Waited. No answer. Then each of the parents of all the friends she could think of. One by one, they told her that her child wasn't there, wasn't being watched by them. By now, thoughts and emotions were racing train tracks. The mother's fingers trembled, her heartbeat hurt like gunfire, her mind blended itself into a hurricane and her face still showed no sign of change, other than a defending look of anger.
"Don't worry, dear. She'll be fine." The uncertain reassurance of a partner wouldn't settle her adrenaline, but would make her accompanied in the worrying of her child's safety.
"Okay."
"It'll be fine." He enveloped her in his arms and hugged her tight.