When A Life Is Lost (NaNoWriMo 2013)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ania hadn’t seen her mother in two years. She’d abandoned her; leaving a scared and grieving fifteen year old to bury her father and find a way to live on her own.

She went to slam the door, but her mother stopped her before she had the chance.

“Stop.”

Ania froze for a moment, before glaring at the woman standing in front of her.

“You can’t tell me what to do anymore,” she said angrily, “You gave up your right to tell me what to do when you left me in the remains of our home.”

Her Mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Please, let me explain,” her mother asked, a pleading tone in her voice and despair in her eyes.

Ania sighed. She knew that her mother would not leave without giving her explanation; that was just the kind of person she was.

“You have five minutes.”

Her mother seemed relieved at her answer. Her shoulders relaxed and the frown lines in her forehead decreased, although they were still there, like they were etched into her forehead.

She made the move to come inside the house, but Ania stood in her way, crossing her arms. Her mother opened her mouth as if to argue, but thought better of it once she had seen the expression on her daughter’s face.

“I was distraught when your father died,” she began, “It was all so sudden, I didn’t know what to do. You were gone, and I was on my own for the first time in fifteen years. I had no idea when you were coming back – you’d been gone for almost a year – and your father, my husband was dead.”

She paused for a moment, seeming confused on how to carry on, how to word her next sentence.

“I suppose...I suppose I blamed you for his death,” she thought for a moment, “I definitely blamed you for his death. When you ran away that day, he was so worried, even with that note. He stressed himself out, trying to look for you, even though he knew where you had gone. I don’t think he ever believed where I said I was born, even though I had the wings to prove it.”

Her mother seemed pained for a moment, as if reliving past arguments between her and her husband.

“It was only recently that I realised that...” she struggled to find the right words, making different sounds, as though it was painful to admit what Ania knew she was about to, “I realised that...well, it wasn’t your fault. He was a very ill man anyway, and was bound to die. I suppose that the timing made me think that it was your fault, but I know now it wasn’t.”

Her mother stopped, seeming happier now that she had told Ania the truth, but Ania was unimpressed.

“That still doesn’t justify what you did to me,” Ania said, uncrossing her arms.