Instantaneous

blɑckdɑy.

For the young souls who were gone too soon.

R.I.P

●16-12-14●

• song of the chɑpter: in loving memory by ɑlterbridge •

•○•

She was woken up by the sound of tiny feet hitting the wooden floorboards.

"Mommy?" a soft voice whispered.

She shifted on her side of the bed and mumbled an incoherent response. Soon enough, she felt a pair of small hands shaking her relentlessly.

"Go bother daddy." she said to her over active five year old son.

"Ok." came his lilting response. She peeked through her eyelids as her onesie wearing boy made his way to the other end of the bed.

She soon heard him trying to wake up his dad. Her husband cracked open one eye and smiled at her. He then pretended to go back to sleep for the sake of their son.

Letting out a roar, he turned and picked up the boy standing unaware by his bedside. He shrieked and then burst into a fit of giggles as he was hoisted above the ground and into his fathers' arms.

Her husband then placed their little boy in the space between them on the bed. She looked on fondly at the duo and couldn't help but feel content, her world within her sight.

○•○

"Mum, I don't wanna go." whined her son yet again. They were sat around the table in the kitchen. Her husband was sipping tea while her son fussed around his breakfast.

Today, he was being particularly pushy, repeating his negation of going to school over and over. She waved off his insistence and hurried him to finish his breakfast.

The school bus hooted the horn and she quickly handed her son his backpack. He kissed her cheek and mumbled a reluctant 'I love you' followed by a half hearted goodbye.

She pecked his head and handed him over to her husband. With a brief kiss for his wife, he took the little boys' hand and walked him out to the bus on his way to the car.

After her boys left, she decided to start on the everyday household chores. However, for some very bizarre reason, a distinct nagging itch seem to be stuck permanently in the back of her mind. Her gut feeling wouldn't settle well.

○•○

As soon as she got done with the morning workload, she decided to take a break and watch TV. As soon as she switched it on, she was faced with a big flashing red sign that read "Breaking News" in bold letters. The writing gave way to the broadcasters face and a video of a school.

With a jolt she realised that the school looked familiar. Shaking, she tried to tune herself into what the telecaster was saying.

"And reports coming in live from the site state that the situation seems rather grim."

"A group of armed men have stormed into the school and taken more than five hundred students and teaching staff hostage. There are gunshots heard at random time intervals during this half an hour seige so far."

As the newscaster continued, she felt her breathing start to shallow out.

Her precious little boy was in there.

She willed herself out of the daze, too numbed to go into hysterics. Thinking her way through, she immediately dialled her husband and within three sentences, told him what she had just seen.

As soon as she put the phone down and turned back to the TV screen, the camera switched to the scene live at the school. As the narrator was telling what happened, there was a loud boom followed by several gunshots.

"Oh God! My son. My poor baby." she wailed. That was the breaking point for her and she broke down completely.

She vaguely remembered her husband coming into the house in a frenzy and finding her a broken mess on the floor.

He held her arm and hoisted her into the waiting car and drove to the school under seige.

The area was cordoned off by the police and other rescue teams. Military personnel were also present and it was utter chaos.

She remembered seeing her husband struggle against two burly lawman in his pursuit to get in and find their son. But he couldn't go past them.

They were ushered into a corner where there were other parents as well. Her husband pulled her closer to him and she watched the man she loved break down completely. He held her as he sobbed while more gunshots were heard in the background.

Every moment was agonising. She felt as if she was stuck in some sort of a limbo. She wanted her son right there, with them. But God knows where her precious baby was.

She tortured herself immensely for sending him to school forcefully when he didn't want to go.

From the corner of her eye, she witnessed some sort of commotion. She turned her head that way and pointed out the emerging wounded children to her husband.

As the group of worried parents made their way towards them, trying to spot their kin, her husband took her hand and moved towards the same area.

She watched anxiously as she tried to spot her son amongst the mass of kids being tended to by the paramedics and being coddled by their parents.

When she couldn't find him, she asked a nearby military man where the rest of the kids and teachers were.

"Ma'am, they're gradually evacuating the children and teachers alive right now so our team can conduct the operation planned to kill the instigators." he replied

With a nod of the head, she waited. And waited. And waited some more. Soon, it was almost dusk and no sign of her son. She had watched three more batches of kids and teachers coming out of the building but her son was not in any.

She was exhausted with the amount of tears she had shed so far and the constant stress. She sat down against the wall and laid her head on her husbands' shoulder. Closing her eyes, she sent up a prayer.

Protect me.
Protect mine.

God knows how, but soon, she drifted off into a world of oblivion. Sleep took her under like a riptide and she lost the fight against it.

○•○

She woke up in the morning and tried to rub the crustiness from her eyes. She turned over in bed and snuggled up against her husband, trying to eliminate the empty feeling.

Despite his arm wrapped around her, she couldn't feel complete. She couldn't help herself as the tears streamed down her face yet again. Her husband burried his face in her hair and she heard him attempting to mute his sobs.

It had been a year.
A year too long.

And they missed it. The sound of tiny feet hitting against the wooden floorboards. She saw him not too long ago. But yet, she couldn't help herself.

I love you mommy. And I love daddy too. I am always looking down on you, from high up above.

•○•

ɑdmɪttedly, ɪ crɪed throughout the wrɪtɪng process of thɪs one.

#neverforgive
#neverforget

mɑke love, not wɑr.
votes, comments ɑnd follows would be greɑtly ɑppreciɑted. ɑll my love, ɑs ɑlwɑys,

peɑce,
sɑm. x