The road ahead was unforgiving and dusty. And there was to be more of it, testing her. The glaring sun gleefully cast long, slim shadows that were still, waiting. Waiting for that very moment where she would start screaming with insanity, lose control of her Ford Focus and send it spiralling into the weak shadows, where she, her daughter and he would forever be hidden, away from the peering world. Waiting for that moment where they would be forever gone, just like everyone else.
She had long, greasy brown hair, with sweat dripping off her lank locks, and piercing grey observant eyes, showing constant fear. She kept tapping her bitten fingernails on the driving wheel, but she couldn't hold it properly, as her hands were too clammy. She swiped a tissue from the side tray and wiped her hands. She first dried her left hand, but it was more difficult than she expected. She kept rigid, as if her hands didn't wish to be dried. It was meant to be much simpler. The dry tears fell, and fear turned into angst as she scrunched the tissue into the floor, opened the window and threw the tissue out onto the sun-baked, sandy road. She glanced upward at the rear view mirror, to see the tissue flying into the humid, freestyle, and her daughter, asleep, dreaming in a faraway world. Freedom.
She longed for it so badly now. She leant forward, shaking, with eyes wide open, concentrating on nothing but a strip of baked tarmac. She was not fit to be a mother in any way. Why did she drag her daughter out of all people into her mess? She was meant to be protective of her as a mother. She shakily glanced up at the mirror again. Still asleep, lay her baby daughter, curled up in her baby seat, black wavy hair blowing in the wind coming in through the open window.
The road would never end. The tracks of her dry tears stuck to her face like duct tape. She went to wipe them off, only to leave a thick layer of cold sweat, limp and lifeless on her face. As she looked at her hands and at her daughter, she felt she had no choice. No choice at all.
He slowly opened his eyes, only to be met with the black of shade. His eyes darted around, frantically searching for a glimpse of light, hope. Only a small long slither of light to his left glinted gold at him. He suddenly felt very hopeful, and tried wiggling over, closer to freedom. Try to prove that he could succeed in life, even after his, unfortunate incident, to his mum. And then reality hit him like a football to the face. He couldn't move. Paralysed for life. A living, seeing, breathing cocoon. He opened his mouth, but it stayed shut. The tears fell down his face, unable to accept his circumstances. But then everything came flooding back to him.
Beyond the watery, red eyes, flashed a volcanic fury. It angered him unbelievably. He remembered...a woman. A woman with the same features, the same hair, the same eyes as his mum. He shut his eyes, desperately getting the woman out of his head, but she stayed perfectly put, her wavy brown hair falling around her face, her white perfect smile glaring brightly.
It was too much; he put his hands in front of his face and yelled. From the gaps in between his fingers, he saw flashing neon lights and then just specks of pure white. He scrunched his eyes up. And just lay in the foetal position whimpering, wishing to be at home. He slowly opened his eyes, and saw the woman look at him reassuringly, as though she was family. As he stared into her sea blue eyes, he wondered who she was, and why she was so interested in him out of all people.
Suddenly, as though she was his mother, she attempted to give him a hug, but something was wrong. There was something missing. Something friendly. Something reassuring.
Something family didn't miss.
As she opened up her arms for him to embrace a complete stranger, the floor, which was white, began disintegrating. He reached his arms up to catch her hands, but she completely disappeared. Slowly faded into the white background. He was falling, falling to an almost unpredictable fate, and suddenly stopped. All around him, there were grey tiles, floating at all different angles. They were all different sizes, different shades, different...just different. As he touched one of them to inspect it, a huge cut split the skin on his forefinger and blood covered the tiles. He was falling again, and this time he didn't stop...