Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
*NOT EDITED*
How to describe the feeling you feel when you're close to your breaking point? Is reaching your breaking point accepting your fate? Or is it just giving up?
Imagine watching the woman you grew up with, tremble within your grasp, slowly giving in to the darkness. Her once vibrant brown skin, now pale and ashy with pain and death. Watching silently as her breaths began shallow and soon, no more.
"Help me lift her. Hurry" the drained her rushed out in a panic. She and her big sister put the woman's body into the tub, quickly turning on the shower that sprayed cold water over her dead body.
"911 is on their way, Fatima. Try t-to wake her up or something" the older girl sobbed, watching the scene from afar.
The rain harshly crashed on the outside of the house, being followed by thunder and lighting.
"Mama" Fatima croaked as she gently caressed the woman's cheek. Her sudden reality was beginning to set in, and it was hitting her in the worse way.
"MAMA" she now shouted, shaking her mother. "Mama why would you leave me. Please, mommy, I need you" her cries became sobs.
She reached her arm over her mother as she cried into the crook of her neck. Her sister watched as she helplessly shook her mother's body, in hopes that the woman would magically wake up.
Soon, police officers, paramedics, and EMTs flooded the large bathroom.
The world moved in slow motion as they pryed Fatima's body from her dead mother. Her shrieks and sobs filled the house as two men had to carry her out. She thrashed around in their strong grips repeating how she wanted to be with her 'mommy'.
Everyone couldn't help but pity her. The only thing on their minds was how traumatic the experience was for the two sisters. They were both a mess, but Fatima. Poor Fatima. Poor, poor, poor Fatima.
After two hours, Fatima finally calmed down. She sat in the back of the ambulance, blankly staring at her mother's house. A warm towel was draped across her shoulders. Her breathing was erratic and her mind was in chaos.
