Thursday, 2 January 2014

Day 2 - Diana's Tale, pt 1

Diana sat quietly in the corner of the room, listening to the slow in and out of the child’s breath as it slept in the small bed in the corner.  The noises coming from beyond the flimsy door, well, she tried to ignore them.  She sat there for what seemed like hours as the voices got louder and more drunken.  Not long now, she thought, and they’ll pass out.  Then you’ll be safe.  The little bundle stirred and she shushed, stroking his head, trying to settle the child down, trying to stay quiet.  But the hunger in his belly was too strong to keep him asleep and a thin wail filled the air.  She crawled back into the corner, “No, No, No” she whispered.  “Just don’t make it be him.”

The door slammed open and a big, drunk, angry man stood in the doorway.  “Shut the fuck up” he rumbled as a stick thin woman pushed past him muttering “he’s hungry babes, give me a moment… please, he’ll be quiet.”

Diana saw the fist coming but the women didn’t.  It connected with the side of her face and she went flying across the room, a bottle of milk splashing up the wall as she fell onto the bed; the wail ramping up to a scream as she crushed her son.  She turned her eyes to the wall now, looking only at the smartphone in her hand.  The name at the top of the readout, Dylan Peters – aged 23 months – time left 15 seconds. 14 seconds.  13 seconds.  She heard a grunt and a squeal, and a sickening thud.  Then silence.  10 seconds.  The door slammed as he left the room, then the chink of a bottle as he refilled his glass once more.  5 seconds. 

She was at the baby’s side now, a slip of a thing, not big enough to be nearly two, His eyes opened, seeing her now.  “Angel” he said as she held him in her arms and he took his last breath.  


A PING from her phone broke the silence, and with tears falling down her face she clicked a button on the side of it as a tiny cloud of silver sparkles lifted from Dylan’s body and disappeared into the device.  Another button pushed, a brief pause, “I’m coming home, please run me a bath” and with that she put the phone into her pocket, turned towards the tiny body of Dylan on the floor, and vanished.

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