The Man Who Killed my Mother

At the age of six, Scott was made to watch his mother's brutal murder then kidnapped by her killer. Having finally escaped the gang who held him for eight years, Scott wants only one thing - answers.

6Likes
12Comments
1254Views
AA

1. Prologue

Morning sweety,” a kindly voice woke me, “here’s your breakfast,”. I opened my eyes to see the face that was handing me the toast. It was my mother.
    I could smell her flowery perfume, the familiar scent filling my nose. I felt her warmth, her delicate breathing, all so comforting to me... It was a beautiful morning; nothing could go wrong if she was here to protect me.
“Do you know what today is?” she asked, teasing. She knew I knew.
“My sixth birthday,” I giggled through a mouthful of toast, the marmalade making my small fingers stick together as I clapped.
“Yeah it is! Happy birthday Scott!”
The doorbell rang.
“Let me answer that, then someone’s got presents!”
She walked out the door. I sat and finished my toast innocently.
    “No! You leave him!” I heard my mum shout. Why was she yelling? Who was she fighting with? I slowly walked out of my room. Down the stairs.
“Is that the postman mommy?” my voice was high pitched and worried. Even more so when I saw the fear in her eyes.“
“Scott! I need you to do something for me-”
 

I made her turn around. She could’ve had a few more minutes at the least. She was smart, I know she would’ve made some kind of plan. I made it happen, it was my fault. And it was definitely my fault the man was there, he came for me. Watching was my punishment. It was like karma. I deserved it.

The man picked something up off the ground. Then he hit my mum in the back of the head before she even saw it coming. The cracking noise rang in my ears; I can still remember the squelch as the brick made contact with her flesh.

Without thinking, and with plate of toast still in hand, I ran downstairs towards the man. I ran through the ever-growing puddle of my mother’s blood, although I didn’t realise what it was at the time. I screamed and shouted at him, my tiny fists pounded uselessly at his stomach.

“Wake my mommy up now!” I yelled, “it’s my birthday!” The man chuckled.
“I know it is, and your daddy’s got a very special present for you,” He picked me up over his shoulder, dangling me by my feet and making me drop the plate. Then he took me away.
    And no matter how much I shouted, mommy still wouldn’t wake up.
 

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...