Page 6 of Slaughtered Firefly
Momma didn’t answer; the only sound I could hear was the rain as it smacked against the windows.
I ventured into the living room where I had first woken up, but no one was there, just red paint on the cushions and floor. Momma wouldn’t like that I got paint everywhere.
“Momma!” I shouted again, hoping that she would hear my cries.
No answer.
Maybe Momma was sleeping in her room. I walked to her room, stepping in red paint along the way. I yawned big, still fighting the sleep away with every step forward.
The light was on when I got to the door, and I pushed it gently open. My eyes scanned the room, coming to a halt when I saw Momma lying in bed. I ran towards her, climbing up on the massive bed.
She looked peaceful as she slept, but she was sleeping in the red paint. It was oily and so slippery. Why hadn’t it dried? Silly momma didn’t like sleeping in our paint clothes.
“Momma?” I whispered softly trying to rouse her.
There was no response.
“Momma?” I shook her shoulder, calling her name again. Maybe she hadn’t heard me.
Nothing happened.
I touched her soft cheek in an attempt to wake her once more. Momma’s skin was as cold as mine. Did she go in the rain too?
I heard shuffling from the living room, and my heart jumped again.
“Momma!” I yelled, scared for what Daddy might do if he found me trying to wake Momma.
She didn’t wake up. She was just lying there sleeping. I pulled the big comforter around us as I huddled closer to her side. Soft cries escaped me as I tried desperately to wake her.
This wasn’t right; Momma always woke up. I sobbed against her, hoping it was a game of pretend.
Please be playing a game of pretend, you promised you would be here always.
I wailed loudly as I slowly came to the realization something was wrong with Momma. My face was streaked with tears as I tried to remember what to do. I sniffled, wiping my nose on my wet sleeve, and sat up closer to her.
My tiny hands gently found their way up to her face, tracing the beautiful features that were my own. Her cheeks weren’t as rosy, and her eyes were still closed. My fingers traced her lips, and I gave her a quick peck. My eyes widened in fear when I didn’t feel the tickling breath of her nose.
“Momma!” I cried out, shaking her body more desperately, but she was so stiff.
The door creaked open, and Daddy stood watching. He looked like he was crying.
“D-d-daddy!” I sobbed toward him, and he stepped further into the room, clumsy still.
“W-w-why won’t momma wake up?” I stuttered, trying hard not to hiccup from crying.
“Sweetheart, she’s not going to wake. She’s dead,” He sighed, picking me up once more.
I grabbed onto his form as his heat leached into my tiny body. Momma’s dead? Like when my goldfish didn’t wake up for two days? Momma said that Goldie had to go away and that we would see him one day soon. I missed Goldie; we had so much fun together. Momma made me go play in the sunroom after Goldie wouldn’t wake up, and I was sad because I wanted to stay. That was the last time I saw Goldie.
Daddy started walking to the door again, but my tear-filled eyes stayed on Momma. Momma will wake up tomorrow. Her big smile and warm hugs will greet me as the sun hits my eyes, and we will laugh, and she’ll say it was all pretend. Uncertainty clawed its way into my mind, and I struggled against Daddy's hold.
“Daddy. W-why are we leaving Momma?” I asked through wails still reaching towards Momma.
“She’s dead,” His voice sounded broken, but he didn’t stop walking.
My head hurt, and my heart screamed out that this would be the last time I saw Momma, but it couldn’t be true. Momma promised she wouldn’t ever leave me until I was as tall as her, but as we made it back to the doorway, my hope was running away.
I cried so loudly as I tried to reach out to her again. I just had to squirm out of Daddy’s hold and try harder to wake Momma.
