𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐛𝐭𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨

𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐡

Guilt is a relentless companion that arrives uninvited after loss, tangling itself with grief like a vine that chokes the breath from your lungs. It wraps around your heart, squeezing tighter with each thought, whispering deceptive lies that convince you that you could have changed the outcome, that you had some control over the cruel unpredictability of life.

In this sterile police station, guilt seeps into every corner of my mind while grief sharpens the edges of that pain, making it more personal, more unbearable. Grief is a storm— an all consuming force that crashes over you in waves, dragging you under and leaving you gasping for air.

Here, in this cold waiting room, i feel both emotions colliding, a cyclone of despair that threatens to engulf me. The harsh lights buzz overhead, adding to the chaos swirling within in me. I want to scream, to demand why my mother had to leave, but the words get lost somewhere deep inside.

Exhaustion seeps into my bones. I long to rest my head on a pillow and finally fall into a deep sleep, cradled by dreams that feel safe. But that comfort feels like a distant dream, always out of reach. I ache for everything I can no longer have. I long to go back home, but the thought terrififred me. Every inch of that apartment now feels haunted by the shadows of loss. Every surface seems tainted by someone else's presence. Every corner whispers reminders of my mother— reminders I will never experience again.

Soon, I would be thrust into someone else's care, into a house stripped of the cherished memories I had formed over the years. Those memories were the foundation of our lives together, providing comfort during moments when my past homes felt empty. To me, a house would never be a home unless my mother could walk through the door once more.

After what feels like an eternity I'm led into an interrogation room, the lights glaring down on me. A few police officers are gathered around a table, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. One of them stands apart, a tall man with weary eyes who seems to watch me closely, as if trying to gauge my thoughts.

"Kaileah?" A soft voice breaks through my thoughts. Its a women dressed in a neat suit, her demeanour warm yet serious. She introduces herself as a social worker, but all I hear is the echo of her title. Social worker. The phrase feels foreign, as if it belongs in a a different life. "Im here to help you."

Help. It's a word that should be comforting, but instead it makes my stomach churn. I don't want help from strangers. I want my mother. I want her to wrap her arms around me, to tell me everything will be okay. I want to feel her warmth, to breath in the familiar scent of her hair— sometimes sweet, sometimes stale from the smoke that hung around us.

But now, my mother is gone, lying cold in this very building and I can't escape the hollow ache that spreads through me. My mother wasn't always mentally present, but what trailed behind was
hope— hope that she would change, that we would get better, that her love would become consistent. I had hope. But now even that is gone, burried with her.

The social worker continues, speaking about potential placements. "There are options available, Kaileah. We can find you a foster home or a group home."

But the reality of it hits me hard. " I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay here." But I know that's impossible. Without my mother, what do I have? What is home without her? I never really had a traditional home, but my mother was the glue.

"My mother.." I begin, but the words get stuck in my throat.

My mother. A noun that means a women in relation to her child. But as a verb it means to bring up a child with care and affection. And thats here the fracture lies. My mother didn't always embody that verb. There were days were she was present but far away.

Still, I cling to the moments of laughter and joy— the times we'd dance in our small living to to the old records she loved, the way her face would light up when she spotted a good deal at the market, her hand gripping mine tightly as we walked home. Those memories filled the cracks in our lives, providing a fragile sense of stability. Now all I have left are fragments of those memories.

"I know this is hard," the social worker says gently. "But we need to talk about what happens next. You'll need to stay with someone until can find a more permanent solution. There are good people who would want to help you."

Her words hang in the air, tainted by the reality of my situation. My mind drifts to the last conversation I had with my mother before everything fell apart. She wanted to move. She was ready to go. I wasn't. I begged to stay. We would've been on a road trip by now. We- as in together. But we had stayed, as per my request. And now I was here, all alone. My mother was gone.

And it was all my fault.

The social worker continues talking, but her words fade into the background. I'm back in that room, staring at my mother's lifeless body. The silence is deafening. I cant process it. I cant understand that I won't ever hear her voice again or feel her touch. It's as if my world has shattered and I'm left standing in the aftermath, powerless over what happens next, as the world around me spins, indifferent to my pain.

"Kaileah?" The officer— the one who's been watching me— steps forward. "I'm Officer Reynolds. I know this is difficult for you right now." His voice is steady yet I feel the weight of his concern. "But we won't leave until we are sure you are taken care of. We will help you."

As they speak in hushed tones, I try to focus on anything but the grief suffocating me. I glance around the room, taking in the simplicity— the bare walls, the cold metal table, the faded posters advertising safety and support. This place feels like a cage, one i can't escape from, no matter how much I want to.

Officer Reynolds steps aside, phone in hand, the screen lighting up as he scrolls. Meanwhile, the social worker approaches, her bright green eyes meeting my swollen, tear-stained brown ones.

"Kaileah," she says gently, "right now we're going to get you a blanket and something to eat. You'll be staying with me tonight while we figure out your next steps."

I blink, absorbing her words. Another officer nearby adds, "Once things settle down at your home, we can help you collect someone of your things."

Taking a deep breath to collect my composure, I nod, unable to form any words. My fingers fidget with the hem of my shirt, each tug a small effort to ground myself in the present as panic begins to creep in.

Please vote and comment :)
Thank you for reading and all the support, votes and comments!!!

I'm sorry this took so long, I didn't really know how to portray grief, it's such an important topic and I didn't want to mess it.

If you have any tips or things that you'd like me to add or change please let me know.

Also i changed kaileahs aesthetic, i feel like the old one didnt show anything about her or appearance , it was just there cause i liked how it looked at the time