- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Jonathan’s sleep was undisturbed in the car. He was warm and comfortable with his favorite blanket, the low hum of the engine a mechanical lullaby to his ears. But the tires soon hit gravel, and Jonathan began to crawl out of slumber. The sudden heart-wrenching crunch of the stones shook him completely from his reverie. He jerked up- No, no no no no. She was driving. He wasn’t dreaming.
“..Mommy?” He whispered. The woman driving the car jumped in surprise, and stared into the rear view mirror, back at her son.
“Hi sweetie.” She croaked. Mascara ran off her face, engraving the crows feet that were just beginning to frame her face. Her smile was wet. Jonathan huddled back into the seat.
“Mommy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said, beginning to cry.
“I know honey, It’s ok. It’ll be ok soon.” His mother replied, wishing the sedatives had lasted longer.
“Are you gonna leave me?” The car skidded to a crunchy stop. His mother’s knuckles were white. She was breathing heavily. Jonathan wished he were very, very tiny as the woman got out of the car and opened his door. He tried to move to the other side, but she was too fast. She had a strong grip on both legs and was pulling hard.
“Mommy, please, no! I’ll be good, I promise! Please, Mommy! No!!” They were both crying hard now.
“I’m sorry sweetie, I’m so sorry sweetie.” She said, digging her nails into her son’s leg as she yanked him from the seat. He fell onto the gravel with a sputtering sob.
“Mommy, I’m sorry, please don’t go! Mommy..!” His cries became blurry and blended; a shrieking mixture of words and pleas. Jonathan’s mother dragged him a few feet from the car, then released him, as though her hands were singed. She stumbled into the car and locked the doors. She buried her face in her arms while Jonathon pounded his fists on the window, his screaming muffled through the window. She felt her heart breaking, and then, he said it…
“I hate you! You’re a bad mommy! I hate you!!” Jonathan screamed, and slammed a fist onto the glass, pure shiny white hate.
That was all she needed. Eyes straight ahead, the mother-no-more slammed her foot on the gas. Jonathon’s fingers made horrible squeaking noises against the car as it rolled past him. He chased after it, but it outdid him with ease.
“Wait! Mommy, please wait! I’m sorry!” He yelled, blubbering. The car was vanishing into the fading dusk. The last thing to go was the growl of gravel under tires, and two pinpricks of red lights. He tripped. Soon the only noise around Jonathan was the soft breeze, cooling his ears and head.
“Please wait… mommy..” His voice was crumbling.
“Come back, please.” Jonathan shivered. The heat and rage were blown away into the night air. He was getting cold, and he hadn’t even left him the blanket.