14th July

Hm…

This might pose a little bit of a problem…

To be honest, I'm not one to get sick often. Wait, no, that's a lie. I get sick all the time when I was a child. But it was more because of my living conditions than my actual health, you understand, right?

I woke up this morning feeling absolutely terrible.

Like, my head hurt and my body was burning. My throat was sore and I just felt like ending it all. On my bed, the blanket felt too warm, so I threw them off. But after throwing the blanket off, it felt too cold, so I wrapped myself in the blanket again. I then continued this cycle several times.

Someone knocked on my door.

"---! Are you awake?" I heard my Mom ask.

"Have you tried shouting?" Fable suggested.

I got onto my feet. At least, I tried to. I just kinda wobbled before falling back onto my bed. Well, this sucks. What? Did I just randomly get sick enough that standing becomes impossible for me?

I managed to stagger myself towards the door. I clasped the door. Why in the world am I sweating so much?

I opened the door lightly and faced my Mom, who had a normal expression until she saw me. Her face turned from one of mild concern to one of actual concern.

Wait…

No, no no no.

I slammed the door shut, but the door was stopped by my Mom, who had stuck her hand in. She yelped, "Ouch!"

"I'm sorry!" I apologised, my voice was surprisingly raspy.

I don't think this is what people meant by 'morning voice'. I looked away and tapped my cheeks, making sure I was smiling this time. I then opened the door, using all my energy to stand up straight.

"I am so sorry," I apologised to my Mom, but my voice was giving all sorts of signs.

"What happened?" My Mom asked while clutching her right wrist.

I shrugged.

She reached out. I stepped out, closing the door to my room behind me. My Mom put a palm against my forehead. She told me, "Take your temperature. I think you might have a fever. I'll text the school. You won't be going to school today, you hear me?"

"B-" I tried to argue.

"No but's. You go take your temperature and go back to bed," She ordered.

She then searched through the fridge and drawers, likely for medicine. I just stood at the door. Fable raised an eyebrow in my direction, so I turned around and went back to my room.

Keeping up the smile was tiring.

I'm so tired.

I just plopped down on my bed, hiding my face in the pillow. My hair was probably messy, my eyes probably look bad and I think I look terrible. I don't know how I look, or how I'm supposed to look anymore.

"What happened?" My Mom asked me.

Normally I would keep people out of my room, but since it was my Mom, and also the fact that I couldn't argue with her in my current state, I just let her in this once. She sat down beside me on the bed.

"C'mon, sit up," She told me.

She then turned her head toward the door, saying loudly, "You two go on ahead, I'll stay behind to take care of ---, okay?"

Dad and Fable went about their way.

I sat up after they went out of sight. I made sure to keep up a smile as I joked with my Mom, "Can't believe I got sick."

"Yeah, I guess idiots can get sick," She joked back.

I chuckled, my throat hurting as I did. She picked up a spoon and fed me cough syrup. I messaged my throat afterwards. My Mom then gave me water to drink. I swallowed a couple of pills and was back to lying down on the bed, facing away from my Mom.

She let out a sigh and patted my head.

"I can call in sick if you want me to," She offered.

"No need," I told her. "I can take care of myself."

There was some silence. I could hear and feel her stand up. She told me, "Well, do call me if you need anything, okay? I'll come rushing right back."

"Okay."

The door closed. I counted to twenty seconds before looking over at the door. My Mom was nowhere to be seen. I lay on the bed, spread-eagled as I stared at the ceiling. The number of plans I had that were ruined by this fricking stupid sickness.

It isn't even that bad, I just have a headache, a fever, fatigue and a sore throat.

Should I Google what kind of sickness I have?

I don't exactly have the energy to do much right now, especially going to school. What about my plans? I could go to the Baking Club and chat with some people there, I could also mess around with Candace's gang a little more.

Instead, I'm stuck at home. Alone.

That sucks.

I managed to crawl out of bed and to the washroom connected to my room. I needed to lower my body temperature a little, so I went to take a cold shower. It felt refreshing, but my head hurt way too much to process it correctly.

"I'mmanotthrowinawaymyshot," I mumbled as I staggered to my bed.

I flopped down and covered myself with my blanket. Something about being sick makes you sleep more, what's up with that?

I…

I really can't right now, sorry.

As I lay on my bed, I thought about stuff like Chloe, Candace and Catherine. Seriously, why do all their names start with C?

You know, how about I tell y'all a story?

It's something that has puzzled me for quite some time.

So there was a young girl, okay? This young girl was the daughter of two lovely parents. Her Mom was young, her Dad was older. They were poor because her Mom never bothered getting much of an education before giving birth.

The girl grew up and had a relatively normal childhood, but when she was eleven, her Dad passed away.

It was… how did the story go again? Right, her Dad died in a car accident on the way back from work. Either to work or back from work, I remember hearing that it was either one of those two, but the point is he died in a car accident.

The girl and her Mom were outcasts from the Dad's side of the family, leaving them with nothing to live by.

So her Mom started finding work, any kind of work.

At age eleven, July, this girl was brought to the town fair.

She got separated from her Mom, so she went around to try and look for her. She saw her Mom, and she called out to her, but her Mom continued walking away until she disappeared into the crowd. The girl fell to the ground and cried, and cried, and cried, and cried, and cried, and cried.

So what makes me wonder when I hear this story is: Did her mother hear her?

Think about it. If her Mom noticed she was missing her only child, wouldn't she be actively looking around? Would she not have heard the class despite the noise and bustling of the town fair?

Did her Mom bring her to the town fair just to abandon her? Or was it a genuine mistake?

A young child, being left alone and crying.

From what I heard, her Mom was an orphan, so she had no parents to rely on. Her Mom had apparently spent time in the foster home, which might have been why she never got much of an education. She also married young, possibly so she could leave the foster home. I don't know all the details.

But that child was picked up by someone and brought over to a Foster Home.

It makes me wonder.

Really does.

Who do you blame in this situation? Do you blame the Mom for choosing to abandon the child in the first place? Do you blame the family that had outcasted them after the death of the Dad? Were they the reason they struggled so much? Were they why the girl was left to fend for her own? Do you blame the child for not being helpful enough? Do you blame the Dad for being a reckless driver?

It's a joke.

Who to blame and who not to blame?

It's like me at school. Let's take us back to last Monday when I admitted to attacking Candace, resulting in my suspension.

Who do I blame?

Do I blame myself for agitating her? Do I blame Candace for being a dick? Do I blame her parents for giving birth to her? Do I blame her surroundings for making her that way? Do I blame the school for not dishing out the appropriate punishment? Do I blame the class for being cowards and siding with Candace? Do I blame the disciplinary sector of my school? Do I blame Mr Dohl for never listening to me? Do I blame the Principal for making the school?

Do I blame myself for choosing this school?

I've never really found out who to blame when something goes wrong. Am I allowed to blame other people? To what extent can I blame them? I always end up blaming myself in the end.

If you were the child in the story, what would you have done?

Would you have continued chasing your Mom even after she refused to reply? Would you stay and cry? Would you pucker up and go a separate way? Would you just emotionlessly stare at your parent until they drifted away? Or would you kill yourself?

As I am right now, as a teenager, my answer would probably be to chase after my Mom.

As an eleven-year-old child, I would probably cry on the spot until she came back.

Who knows?

I do, I'm telling the damn story here.

I… had a dream.

Crowded, constricting. Everywhere I look, it seemed like I was in a different place. I don't recognise anyone, no one recognised me. I tried pushing my way out of the crowd, pissing off a few people.

I ended up somewhere different. There were fewer people. In front of me, a child cried her eyes out. There was a ring of strangers around her, all of them unsure of what to do. I looked out, and a single female figure was sauntering away.

Chase.

I have always wondered, what was the face of a mother who had just abandoned their child? I know the face of a child who had been abandoned, but not the face of her mother. I chased after her.

In front of her, I stood. She had a slouching posture, she walked in half-steps. She paused every other step, hesitating, turning her head ever so slightly before walking again. But her face.

Black, scribbled out.

What was the face of a mother in this scenario supposed to look like?

Hey, look at me.

She walked by me.

Hey, don't leave.

Turn around, maybe I can see your face if you would just turn around.

Hey!

"Don't leave me!" I yelled.

I snapped out of it. My heart was beating fast for some reason. Have you ever gotten that kind of feeling? You wake up and your heart's just unusually fast? No? Just me? I'm not weird, you are.

My eyes were wide, my vision was blurry. I am not sure if the blurry vision part is because of my myopia or cause I just woke up.

I was hugging someone.

I glanced up. My Mom was sitting by my bed, her back facing me. I was hugging her from behind. I cleared my throat, which was feeling better now, and slowly removed my arms. My Mom turned around, smiling.

"What kind of dream you having there, bud?" She asked me cheekily.

"Nothing," I replied, pulling the blanket over my face.

She chuckled and continued reading the book in her hands. I noticed the wet towel on my forehead.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" I asked her.

"I took a day off," She told me. "I called up my boss and told him you were sick, so I had to take care of you."

"Can you do that?"

"Of course, I can't," She flicked my forehead. "I'll just have to work extra hard whenever it is I get back."

"By the way, why aren't you wearing anything?" My Mom added.

What?

Oh right, I felt way too sick after showering that I just went straight to bed.

I made sure to pull the blanket tighter over me. She shrugged and continued, "So, what were you dreaming about? From the looks of it, it was pretty bad."

"Normal stuff," I replied.

"Having those nightmares again?"

"Yeah."

She gave me a kind smile. "Maybe try thinking about positive stuff?"

I forced out a smile. "I've been trying."

She lightly tapped my cheeks, leaning closer to me. "You don't have to smile all the time, you know? Just smiling doesn't make you happy."

"I know," I nodded, shuffling closer to her. "It's just… easier to smile than to…"

"Cry?"

Silence.

"You have a family," She told me. "You can rely on us, there's no problem with it. You don't need to struggle by yourself."

"This isn't my family," I whispered. "They aren't family."

My Mom put an arm over me and hugged me. "It is."

I stared off to the side while my Mom held the hug. She eventually commented, "This blanket is really comfy. Did we buy this?"

"I stole it from our old place," I told her.

"The only good thing about that dump," She joked.

There was a moment of silence as my Mom changed the towel on my forehead. The damp towel had gotten warm, so she soaked it in colder water, wrung it a little and placed the damp towel on my forehead. Water dripped down, making my hair wet and sometimes going into my eyes.

My Mom wiped the water that was headed toward my eyes.

"Mom, what was it like for you growing up?" I asked.

My headache felt better, and I didn't feel like killing myself as much. My Mom tapped her chin before saying, "I was at Circe's Foster Home when I was young, then I was moved to Kaster's when Circe's started running out of funding. It happens, I guess?"

"Your Grandma, Grandpa and I lived in a pretty dodgy apartment cause we were poor," She started telling me the story while patting me to go to sleep. "There was an electrical fire, and the building caught on fire. Your Grandma and Grandpa managed to throw me out the window before the fire could get to us, and I was caught."

I could see her eyes tearing up.

"I was 4 at the time, too," She continued, rubbing her eyes a little before forcing a smile. "I grew up in Foster Homes. That's about it, I guess?"

She punched me lightly, scolding me jokingly, "Look what you made me remember!"

"Do you have nightmares too?"

She let out a sigh and adjusted her seating. "I did. Tons of them. I remember all sorts of things, I get nightmares all the time, even at this age. But…"

She pushed my hair behind my ear, smiling purely as she did so. "We all gotta learn to move on, hm?"

She kissed me on the cheek before telling me, "I'll get you something to eat, okay? Just stay put."

Stay put, I shall.

My Mom came back into the room with a bowl of porridge. I saw her walk in, so the first reasonable question I had was, "Did you cook that?"

"Yeah," She replied. "I followed a recipe I found online, so it shouldn't be too bad."

She set the bowl of porridge aside before helping me to sit up in my bed. She scooped a bit of porridge, blew on it and tried feeding it to me. I ate it, spoiler alert, it was not hot. I asked her, "How long ago did you make this?"

"An hour?"

I cracked a smile and chuckled lightly. "It's not hot, why are you blowing on it?"

"People blow hot food? What's wrong with them?" My Mom raised an eyebrow. "I thought you blow on it to blow the fragrance to the person."

We laughed over it.

I recovered enough to eat it on my own.

"Might be the best thing you've made," I commented.

"Really?" She beamed. "Maybe I should cook more."

"Um… How abooouuut… no?"

She punched me lightly again. I chuckled weakly then finished my food. It was alright, I guess. The flavour was alright, and it didn't make me want to puke, so that was an improvement.

I sat on my bed, the blanket drawn over me.

My Mom was minding her own business reading a book. Several thoughts ran through my head until one thing stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Mom, I need some help," I said to her.

She turned, looking mildly shocked. "Oh, help with?"

"There's this girl I know," I started explaining. "She's 7. I found her one day after her parents had abandoned her. She's now in Kaster's."

"I see," My Mom nodded along with the story.

"The police came and told me that I could decide what needs to be told, so they gave me the responsibility to tell her about her parents," I continued. "Her parents passed away, and she has to attend the funeral. B-But I just don't know how to tell her."

"She must be a sweet girl," My Mom commented.

"Yeah, she's adorable," I agreed, forcing a small smile.

My Mom rubbed her chin, closing the book in her hands. "I can't exactly tell you what to do in this situation."

"When I was 4, my parents saved me from that fire. I was unconscious at the time and had no idea what had happened. Later, when I was a little older, someone told me the whole story. Telling someone what they need to know is important, you can't keep this kind of information away from them, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded.

"You don't have to be the one to do it," She suggested. "If you can't bring yourself to do it, have someone else."

I laid down on my bed, hiding my face. I haven't been smiling much because my head hurt, so I wanted to hide it.

My Mom patted me rhythmically.

"You don't have to be responsible for everything that happens around you," She said. "Before I learnt this, I used to think I was cursed. My parents passed away, Circe's ran out of funding, I gave birth way too young… and what happened to you… what happened to us. It's painful. But I didn't have to be responsible for everything. After all, in the end, I have a beautiful daughter with me."

"Are we the same?"

"No," My Mom told me. "I'm still here, that's the difference. And you don't have a kid yet, do you?"

I laughed lightly. "Of course not!"

She tickled me, making my body jerk away from her. "C'mon, at your age you must be interested in that kinda stuff, right? Anybody you like?"

The blanket was pulled down to reveal my face.

I shook my head. "Nobody yet."

"Good, you're not allowed to marry," She joked. "You'll be with me forever, okay? I better see you when I'm on my deathbed."

"But then I wouldn't be able to see you on my deathbed," I countered.

She stuck out her tongue. "Too bad."

Tick tick.

About an hour later, my Mom told me to get some rest. I took my medication again before going back to sleep, my Mom by my side.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

My Mom turned the lights off, but it was rather obvious that she was still in the room, sitting on the bed. I couldn't sleep well. I was just waiting for the drowsy effects of the medication to kick in before I properly went to bed.

I love my Mom and all, but there are just some things I gotta do. I can't just stop now. It's impossible to stop now.

I've gone too far.

The only way for me to go from here is to move forward.

Right on ahead, don't stop.

Cause if I ever stop, I might never find my way back home.

"Love you," I mumbled.

"Love you too," I could vaguely hear my Mom reply.

Sleep.