Mother • zieglers

Chapter 1

Tears roll down my cheeks as I squeeze mom's hand in mine. "Please don't die mom. Don't leave me!" I whisper through my sobs. Mom's eyelids flutter a little, then her eyes open wide. "Maddie" just saying her name takes a lot of effort now. "Shhhh... just rest mom. Don't say anything." I press my index finger on mom's lips. Mom smiles and closes her eyes again. "Mom?" I whisper after awhile. Moms eyelids flutter open.

"Yes?"

"Don't leave. Please."

"I won't Maddie."

"I... I'm sorry for what I've done"

Mom smiles, closing her eyes.

"It's alright Maddie. Now go home to Kenzie. I need to get some rest."

I nod even though she can't see it. I place her hand under the blanket and give her a kiss on her forehead. "Bye mom" I say quietly. But mom is already asleep.

I take my purse and leave.

I step through the door, away from the piercing cold wind outside. "Kenz?" I yell as I walk through the small yet cozy house, searching the rooms for my 8-year-old little sister. "I'm here Maddie!" Kenzie walks out of her room at the end of the corridor.

"The babysitter's gone?"

"As usual"

"Good. Go do whatever you want Kenz. I'll be alone in my room"

"Okay"

Kenzie obviously takes the hint that I need to be alone. She's really mature for a eight-year-old. I guess it's because of my parent's divorce three years back. We've been living in poverty ever since, barely getting our full three meals a day.

I go to my room and slump back on my bed. My mind tries to process what happened today. Mom passed out at work today. She works at ALDC at the front desk, earning just enough to pay for my dance lessons. Other than that, she also works at a pizza parlor, an ice-cream parlor in summer, a coat store in winter and so many more I just can't count them on my ten little fingers.

Abby, of course, called the ambulance and me. She said mom was looking tired all day and she suddenly passed out while looking at some accounts. That was around afternoon. But how come I didn't notice mom looking tired this morning? Didn't she wake up a full hour early as usual? Didn't she make pancakes with maple syrup as usual, even though I told her I was sick of them? Didn't she drive me to school as usual, even though I wanted so badly to take the bus? Didn't she kiss me goodbye as usual, even though I often complained I was too old for that? She was acting normal to me, who saw her more than anyone else, yet even Abby could tell something was wrong. And Abby hardly even glances at anyone.

I shut my eyes shut tightly. The doctors at hospital said mom had a tumor. How could she have a tumor? She was so healthy. She walked a lot. She thinked a lot. She was healthy. Why did it have to be her?

But the biggest question that occupied my mind was, why did I always treat her so bad? Why did I always have to yell at her? Why did I always have to talk to her with so much sarcasm dripping all over my words? Why did I have to ignore all her warnings and end up running to her, crying? Why did I have to treat her with a massive lack of respect? Why?

I open my eyes and get off the bed. I open my cupboard and reach for my secret box on the top shelf. I open the box and take out a small notebook. I sit back down on my bed and open the notebook on my lap. I start reading it...