part 1

1 0 0
                                    

I was 8 years old when my mother passed away. She had died of an illness I can't remember, and I doubt was even diagnosed. We were within the 56 percent of the world who had no medical assistance, no job, no house and of course, no food. So when my mother started coughing uncontrollably to the point where she could no longer breathe and blood splattered her hands, even I knew there was no saving her. She lived for about a year after the coughing started. She refused to eat, for she knew she had little time left and refused to take any ration of food that could have gone to me. She lost weight rapidly, her eyes sinking in to her face. I could no longer recognize the only person who had ever cared if I lived or died.
After she passed, her body was left to decompose in the streets just as all of the rest of the underclass population had been when they passed.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Oct 16, 2016 ⏰

Add this story to your Library to get notified about new parts!

Purification Where stories live. Discover now