Of Lost And Never Found [A Short Story]

Of Lost And Never Found

 Disclaimer: The characters in this story are entirely mine. Any resemblance to living or dead is purely coincidental.

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I smashed the vase against the door. It broke. It was scattered into many pieces, just like my will.

Clutching my head in my hands, I fell on my knees on the floor. I had a gut wrenching feeling. I could feel a physical pain. The kind of pain that ripples through your very soul until there’s left nothing of you, just shards and pieces of your soul like broken glass.

I could hear footsteps outside the door. I could hear my mother repeatedly shout out my name. I could hear the banging, the screams but I felt numb. It was like I was frozen in time. My body couldn’t move. I just didn’t have the will in me.

“Anna,” I hear her shout. But I don’t respond. I could hear her running downstairs. The house was quiet again. I was left in the lonesome emptiness that was slowly, but eventually, enveloping me.

I was in this situation for my own doing. I loved him too much. I gave him my heart and my soul. It has been three and a half years, but yet I am here, wanting nothing but to be held by him.

Big fat tears stream down my face. They trickle down my cheeks like a dam has been opened. I wipe at the tears but they don’t stop. They keep flowing and flowing.

I can feel my lips trembling. I look at my hands through teary eyes and I can see them shaking. I can feel my heart ache and I can feel the pain gripping at me. Why is it that I keep on experiencing this? I have been told it was never my fault, but I never believe them. I know they are lying. They want me to carry on with my life. But, I know it was always my fault…

***

I find myself on my bed the next morning. Mother must have gotten someone to help me put up in the bed or maybe, it was father or brother. Either way, its early morning and I have to leave this house before everyone wakes up. I know what they’ll make of yesterday’s situation. They deem me mentally unstable and forbid me form going anywhere out of the house even in a stone throw’s distance.

I pull on my cardigan for it has started snowing. I grab my gloves, my car keys and pull on my boots. I am out of the door without even so much as a creak of the wooden floor. I drive out of the garage and before pulling out of the driveway I look back at the house. I see mother standing near the window, looking at me with saddened eyes. They are teary and so much in grief. Before I start crying, I drive away without a second glance.

***

The atmosphere here is eerily quiet. It’s middle of the day but the clouds and the snow have given this place a dreadful ambience. There would be an occasional caw of a crow on the many trees planted about the place. The trees have lost its leaves and are covered with a thin layer of snow on its branches. The sickly thing branches stick out in odd angles and add to the eerie atmosphere I feel.

Walking to where I wanted was an automatic task. It has been so many times that I’ve walked along these pavements that I’ve got it by heart now. I guess I could walk with closed eyes and reach this place. Walking with heavy steps and clutching my cardigan tight against my torso to shield against the cold I reach the place. I kneel down in front of the tombstone and stare at the name engraved, in the loving memory of Edward Sinclair, it reads, son of Annabelle Sinclair…

My eyes fill with tears, tears that are on the verge of spilling out. I feel the gripping pain again. It crushes my heart and my mind drifts back to the incident that made me lose my only precious thing in the world.

If it hadn’t been for me scolding him, he wouldn’t have run out of the house. He wouldn’t have taken his cycle in a hurry and ridden off in the street completely missing the car that drove straight towards him. If he wouldn’t have been pre-occupied with the thoughts, the grievances he felt because I scolded him, he would have taken a sharp turn and survived.

I had witnessed it with my own eyes. Even now I could see the entire scene playing out in front of my eyes. I could hear the distinct screeching of the tires, the loud honk and the crash. I can see my son flying away and crashing on the ground in a state of mangled limbs.

I had ran then. I had ran as fast as my legs could carry, all the while shouting out his name. I could hear people shouting and calling out to each other to call 911. All I wanted to do was rush back to my baby and see if he was alright even though deep down I knew the dreadful circumstances hanging in the air.

When I saw my son he was lying in a pool of blood and his clothes were soaked making them look crimson. His blond hair had taken a shade of mud brown color and his face was smeared in his own blood. His hands were trembling and his eyes stayed open fixed on a spot up in the sky.

I cradled him in my arms and tried to revive him. Unshed tears filled my eyes and I knew of the inevitable coming close on us. He took shaky breaths and his hands shook as I grasped them in mine. I heard someone shout the ambulance was on its way and I need not worry. Someone assured Edward he’ll be alright but I could sense the doubt in his voice.

Edward had looked straight at me. He had gripped my hand tighter. His lips had trembled and he had breathed out. He had ever-so-slightly whispered "sorry mom" and just like that his eyes had rolled back in his head. His grip had lessened and I felt his life draining out of him.

I had screamed. I had shaken him violently. I had called out his name and I had clutched him tightly against my chest. The paramedics had arrived and they had pulled Edward away from me. He was given CPR and a defibrillator. I saw my son’s body lifelessly lift up from the ground and fall back again. They repeated it again and again and yet they couldn’t revive my son. One of them had looked at me and subtly shaken his head. And that’s when I had screamed feeling the agony deep in my soul. I had lost my son. I had lost him, never to be found again.