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Me Mum

“I hate you!” That was the last thing I told me mum before the car accident. That’s the most terrifying thing I’ll ever remember. She’s not expected to live. So I haven’t left her bedside. I know she’s gonna wake up. She’s gonna yell at me, and kiss me, and be there for me. Every night before bed, I tell her “Mum I love you.” And tell her about my day. Once she even stirred. I cried for a half hour when I realized how much hope a stirring could give me.

One day she woke up. I poured everything out to her. I told her I loved her no matter what and that she was gonna live, and I would never ever hate her.

“Honey, I’m not the one hurt, you are.” She told me. Suddenly my focus became blurry.

“No mom, I need you, no.” I shouted. I bolted upright. “Just another dream.” I whispered to myself. Another horrible, haunting dream about my mom, nothing I shouldn’t be able to handle. Yet I couldn’t.

“’At’s wrong darlin’? Mum haunting yer dreams ‘gain? Don’t yer worry ‘bout her. She ain’t here.” Said the mental hospital’s nurse. I don’t trust the hospital nurses though. Tell you whatever to shut you up, they will.

I slid out of bed and grabbed my copy of the Goblet of Fire. It was the only thing that keeps me sane this book. Other kids have photos and letters and family, but I have a book. Because the last of my family dies every night when I sleep.

I shouldn’t be here! I told myself. I’m not mental. Every kid has right to miss his or her mum when she dies. They tell me “You shouldn’t dream of your mummy.” And all I’m thinking is “Your simply afraid I might fill up the orphan homes. Stupid twits you are! The whole lot ‘a ya!”

Well I didn’t plan to stay here much longer. I was digging out. The hole was outside, but not big enough to fit me through yet. So I was gonna have wait in this bloody British mental “institute for the insane” or in my words The Place They Send Completely Sane Orphans Who Miss Their Mums.

I never got to say goodbye mum. That’s what I regret the most.



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