Young Writers Society

this is my final edition of this story, as in this is the one that i've handed in, however, I am willing to edit it from now on as I want to submit it for another competition as well. so please, views are welcome.

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I crawled. It was the only action my body allowed. Fear had paralysed me, trying to shut out the stench of horribly burning flesh. I felt harsh concrete cutting into my hands and legs through the thick cloud that surrounded my mind, but it was only a feeling. All my senses were crushed under the terrifying reality that he was gone.

Dead.

I knew that somewhere nearby trees were being blown with the smoke and the grass was turning black from the flames, but they didn’t seem to permeate my brain. The small thoughts that I could sense wouldn’t move further than that simple fact. No true sound, taste or smell; just the clashing, bitter tang of fear.

Dead.

The single word resonated through me again and again, latching onto the few things that would keep me sane and standing.

Dead.

As I crawled through the enclosing chasm I remembered this numb feeling had happened before, but somehow I knew that it had never been quite like this. It was when I had been happy, or at least as happy as I’d ever been. My mind suddenly showed me that moment, and the feeling…

…He crawled. The soft carpet greeted his tender hands and knees. No pain and no hurt were in the action, only freedom. My son’s first movement without my support. I could only look on as he moved away from me, escaping my grip, finding his place in a world that had been so cruel to me. The numb feeling came from my fear of losing him then rather than the fear of knowing I already had. Back then my life had so many difficulties. I was alone in so many senses of the word, but my child had given me something that took it away. I couldn’t lose him.

“He’s the image of his mother,” Jason smiled at us from the doorway.

I grinned back at him, my eyes hesitant to leave my child’s small body, “I know.”

He sighed, and kept standing away from us, “I got a letter, Louise.”

I raised my eyebrow, my small signal for him to continue.

He cleared his throat, “There’s a problem with the adoption.”

I finally tore my eyes from my son, “What do you mean?”

The panic in my voice made him step forward, “Not with him. It’s me. They found out about my time.”

I felt the pain then; a fierce darkness arose around my heart, anger and fear spilled into my nervous system, “But you were acquitted, you were found innocent. How can they do this?”

“They figured there must have been some reason I was charged.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that my record was against me,” He just looked at me, “My reputation precedes me everywhere I go, Louise.”

“He needs a father, Jason.”

“I know.”

“And I love you, Jason.”

“I know.”

I stood up, moving to a chair, my focus on the boy shuffling across the apartment floor. Jason sat down beside me, his arm creeping around to encompass my shoulders, a comforting warmth, and I relaxed into his embrace. I had known Jason for so little time, and yet I trusted him almost completely. Even after my experiences, I knew that this was a man that could help, if he was given the chance.

Leaning against him, I gazed lovingly at my son. Jason smiled down at the child as well, but sadness crept into his green eyes.

"I know he isn't yours," I said, "But you will come to love him, I promise."

Jason looked down at me tenderly, "I already do," he gave me a squeeze, "We'll be a family soon, don't worry."

I sighed at his words, we’d had so many problems, "I hope so."

"They can't deny us...

…I was brought harshly back to the present as hands reached around and held me tight, but they weren’t the arms of Jason. When I looked up I saw a smiling face that I couldn’t recognise, a man that had come to be my saviour, but I knew that my saviour was already gone. As they pulled me towards an ambulance, the memory went around in my head.

“We will be a family,” he'd said.

He’d sounded so sure then, but as the years passed and my son crawled away from me, the harsh reality of truth crept into my mind; they could never have let it happen, they knew our pasts too well. And my heart was wrenched in sadness and fear. I had known I could never have left him alone. Not for Jason, not for the whole world. When his father left me broken, a baby on the way and no one there, I was alone. When Jason left, I was alone again, but my son - my son was my support. The government hadn’t helped; no social workers had come to counsel on how to look after a growing boy alone. I could never leave him.

But now he was alone. I had left him, and look what it had done. I knew that he was older now, that he could take care of himself, but I had sworn I would never leave him. And now he was gone.

Dead.

I had relied on him, his own instincts, and then failed him when he needed me. I had promised to always be there for him. I couldn’t forgive myself now, as I half-gaze at the fire and smoke around me. I’d left him alone.

Dead.

When I saw the devouring flames, and felt the savage heat, I’d just known. It was him. No one was there to tell me; I couldn’t recognise the mangled car, I just knew. And I collapsed. My legs gave way, my mind went blank, and I fell.

Dead.

As they move through the wreckage, I know they’ll never find him. He wasn’t there any more. Not really. He was gone, crushed…

…unable to crawl