"Mommy," I called, my bare feet making soft noises as I walk down the hall, dimly lit by the Christmas tree in the living room behind me.
I wanted her comfort. I knew that it couldn't be, but the horror seemed so real. I just wanted her to hold me. She'd hold me to her chest, then kiss my forehead. She'd get up and walk to the kitchen. I'd hear the clink of glass as she's step up on her tip toes to get a cup from the cabinet. The next sound would be the faucet, the rush of water. I'd stare at the picture of Daddy on her nightstand as she returned to my side. I'd take the glass in my hands and drink about half the contents as she felt my forehead, then kiss it again. She would take the glass from my hand and set it next to Daddy. She would climb into bed next to me and hold me close as her body heat made me feel safe, and I would fall asleep wrapped in blankets that smelled like her as she whispered she loved me.
I stopped to look at the pictures of us on the wall. When Daddy and Ben were still here. I missed Ben. I hoped he was at peace and finally felt free. I missed Daddy, too. I hoped he was happy.
I continued to Mommy's room, my eyes following the tinsel that she worked so hard to hang at the top of the wall. I looked down as I approached the door and gently pushed it open. She would have sat up because not only did she hear my footsteps and the creak of the door, but I'd been having nightmares almost every night this week. She would have smiled at me and said, "hi, baby girl," or, "Night terrors back?". But she didn't. She wasn't in her bed.
YOU ARE READING
Built
General FictionPeople are built for different things. Their lives mapped in various ways, and their brains structured in different forms. And no one knows exactly how it'll all end. But at least we know what we're doing for the time being. Well, that's what they t...
