She was bleeding out fast. Her skin was pale, her body cold. I was helplessly watching the life flooding from her eyes, vaporizing away, slipping between my fingers. My mother lay in my arms dying, and I was powerless next to Death.
It was all my fault. I wished I had sprinted home, bolted the door, been there to face these cowardly, evil monsters, the heartless, evil creatures who shot a widow, alone in her house. I wished I could have stopped the bullet that was stopping my mother’s heart. I was still trying to believe none of this was real, that it was all an act, a dream. But the horrible evidence of cruel reality was all there was to see.
The shot had pierced her body entirely, her blood had washed over the hard floor. My arms were soaked to the elbows as I tried to stop the bleeding. I was panicking. I had applied pressure to the wound with a nearby blanket, but to no avail. None of it added up, the bullet hadn’t even cracked the bone in my chest, but it had torn straight through my mother’s body, leaving a hole the size of my fist straight through her. And the shots I had fired had left gaping holes in the two intruders as well. They were dead, and my mother was following their path..
Tears were streaming down my face as I reached the broadcaster to send for help. I felt sick, the room smelled of blood and death. There wasn’t much time, there wasn’t enough time. Mom was trying to say something, weakly moving her limbs, as if to get up. I hit the emergency alert on the broadcaster and fell to her side.
“My diary… my diary…” the words barely escaped her lips. None escaped mine. “William… my diary… the second drawer…” she whispered hoarsely, “Knock out the back.” I did as she instructed, and a worn, hard-covered book with thick, yellowed pages fell into my palms. It had been hidden in a secret compartment, all this time. I quickly brought it to her, and she lifted her head slightly and smiled at me. She was looking straight through me, her eyes had barely a dim spark of life left in them. She had lost a lot of blood. “William, this will show you what you need to know… you must run from here… do not let Them take you…” I was shaking violently, the horrible acceptance of the fact I had been denying was coming upon me. She would not live. “Who mother, who?” I was sobbing. She took hold of my hand and, word by word, with her final strength, spat, “The truth lies within that diary… that truth is all you can trust now… don’t let… Them…” her head fell back. Her cold hand dropped. Her body became still, and it was as if everything on the planet had stopped. I could hear the silence her unbeating heart radiated, it was as if I was alone in a vaccuum. No light, no sound, no help. My head spun, and I fell to the floor, soaked in my newly deceased mother’s blood.