Mother

All the child heard were the sounds of flies buzzing around her body. She was face down against the dry sidewalk, dressed in her makeshift clothes which were very loose on her badly wounded body. Blood stains marked the majority of her figure, mostly from the bruises from her torso, maybe a broken rib or two.

After all the repeated beatings, the pain was numb and yet the boiling sting of hunger reverberated throughout her body.

How many days has it been since she last ate – since she was given proper food.

Flies were already pacing around her, she raised her head slightly and felt the roaring heat from the sun. It was midday and her mother is still away.

She looked to the run-down apartment complex in front of her.

Home.

I need to go. Maybe she's back. She needs me.

She pulled her strength and grasped the stones beneath her, trying to gain some footing.

Crawl back. I need to go back. I can do this.

Yet for some reason, she dropped back again to the sidewalk, defenseless, hungry and thirsty.

Was this it, she thought. At noon, dirty and alone, amidst the smell of rotten garbage and outside of her apartment.

I wish I could've seen her one last time.

One more time, one last.

She looked up once more, to see the skies for the last time, but all she found were the dead-set eyes of a young woman. Smeared mascara paired with bright red lips. The lady caressed her cheeks softly and felt immediate comfort and ease.

The woman kelt to her, grabbed her by her hair and whispered, "You little wench." The familiar stench of alcohol was all she could remember along with the ruined face of the woman she called Mom before her head was slammed by a metal pipe.

Blackout.