I Wish I've Been There

One shot

I regretted ever teaching you that you need to make up with someone before going to bed because only God knows what the morning may bring. I regretted it so much because I could now only imagine the pain and confusion that you must've felt when I stormed off to my bedroom and went to bed without tucking you in. I regretted not listening to my own lessons that I constantly preached to you when I heard a window smash along with your cries for me piercing the air later that night.

"I'm sorry, Mommy." You pleaded between sobs, "I'm so sorry. I promise I won't do it again!" If only I took a breath. Maybe counted to ten, or even to three. Maybe if I had done anything at all, I would've let you come into bed with me, safe from the horrors of the world, preventing your last impression of me from being that of a monster.

Instead, I didn't answer the bedroom door when you knocked, desperately wanting us to talk and make up. Instead, I cursed you silently, muttering how you were just like your father, before falling into a frustrated sleep.

The crash made me wake in a cold sweat. I followed your screams to your room, which I was only met with the frigid winter breeze that came from your window and an empty bed. I rushed towards the window, the cold piercing my skin as I searched among the darkness. I then saw you, being carried by... something.

It stood on two legs and had a face, but it looked demonic. Its bloodshot eyes bugged out as it darted between me and something beyond it that I could not spot. Although I could not see well, I saw its skin, which looked rotten and almost sewn together. There were patches of various skin types throughout its body, and I gagged just imagining how it must've smelled.

I darted towards your unconscious body, but the creature easily outran me. It made some sort of screeching laugh that stabbed my ears before it left my sight, leaving me in the freezing weather and without you.

I couldn't even begin to think how ridiculous I must've looked when morning came: a woman with a tank top and shorts sobbing on the sidewalk in the middle of downtown during the winter. It was a wonder no one called the cops on me.

Once I crawled back to our house, I stayed there for what must've been weeks. The broken window made us an easy target for robbers and before long, I had little to nothing to my name. I then promptly lost my job due to my recent absence. But I couldn't bring myself to care.

I didn't care about the broken window.

I didn't care about getting robbed.

I didn't care about losing my job.

I didn't care about losing everything I owned.

What costed me my will to get out bed even to simply to eat was losing you, my child.

One of the neighbors called the cops to report you missing for me. She noticed the broken window and connected the dots from my grieved state and my lack of a child. The police questioned me about what happened and about what I saw. Besides the time that you were taken, I stayed silent and ignored their probing questions. Partly because I didn't want to relive the tale, despite it replaying in my head every waking and sleeping moment. But also because I knew that nothing good would come out of it. They would've labeled me crazy, saying I went insane due to losing you, maybe they would've even put me in a psych ward, in which case I wouldn't have been able to afford a single night there even before I've been robbed clean.

After what should've been hours, they finally left, with no real information they could use.

Although it was a blur, I doubt I ate anything for the following month. I drank from the bathroom sink between bathroom trips due to not having the energy to go to the kitchen. My routine consisted of breaking down crying, staring into the abyss that's my bedroom ceiling and falling asleep due to exhaustion. I would think of you, all the memories that we shared. Your beautiful smile made me go crazy, with me smiling one second and sobbing the next. Your laughter would play randomly in my mind, with me desperately wishing to hear it in person just one more time. Both my stomach and head would beg for any type of nourishment, though it was always for naught as I continued lying in bed.