It was a chilly winter’s night, and I found myself curled up on the couch, savouring a lukewarm cup of hot chocolate. Hoping for good news, I switched on the TV, eagerly searching for my school’s name on the list of ‘Closed for the Snow!’ But to my disappointment, there was no sign of my school. As I made my way to school, I was met with mocking laughter from other children. It seemed that I was the only one attending a school that hadn’t shut down due to this intense snowstorm.
Upon entering my classroom, a haunting silence greeted me. I looked up from my phone and realized that I was the only one there. It felt peculiar since most of my friends lived just across the street from the school and were always early. I left the school, contemplating the absence of other children. They had been there moments ago, and now, they were nowhere to be found. An unsettling thought crossed my mind – maybe they were preparing to pounce on me, pelting me with snowballs that would leave bruises. “Mother wouldn’t like that,” I muttered to myself.
Seeking solace, I decided to sit on the steps of the school and message my father to pick me up. Mother was occupied, and I didn’t want to bother her. As I turned around, a tall figure loomed behind me, arms outstretched, with an expressionless face and greasy hair. Fear gripped me, and I recoiled. “Mother! What are you doing here, Mother? You can’t stand the cold. Let me walk you home. I don’t want you to catch a cold,” I stammered. Mother grabbed my wrist, her skin paler than the snow itself, her bony fingers clasping mine.
“Don’t worry, my child. I have come to take you home. I heard on the radio upstairs that you had a snow day,” Mother said, a grin forming on her face. I giggled nervously, my thoughts spinning in confusion. We walked through the empty streets, and I noticed little faces peeking out from behind curtains, hidden away. The others feared Mother, and so did I, but I never let it show when Mother was present. As we entered our home, my father stood there, visibly startled to see Mother entering with me, crouching to avoid hitting her head.
“Oh my! I’m terribly sorry, dear. I didn’t realize you had gone out. I should have picked her up sooner!” my father exclaimed. Mother frowned, gesturing for me to go to my small room with a wave of her finger. That night, the screeching sound of the meat grinder was louder than ever.
The following morning, Mother entered my room holding a tray filled with food. “Thank you so much, Mother,” I replied to her silence, offering a wide smile and a hug. I sat down to eat breakfast with her, trying my best to conceal the fact that I wasn’t eating my sausages. But she noticed.
“Why aren’t you eating your sausages? You love sausages!” she inquired. I remained silent, longing for my father’s presence.
That night, I hatched a plan. I knew Mother loved going into the basement, claiming she was painting. The covered canvas in the corner had been collecting dust, and those muffled screams occurred almost every night.
This was my plan:
• Wait for Mother to go into the basement, as she sometimes slept there.
• While she was distracted, lock the door. I had already acquired a padlock for my room door, which I never used, so she was unaware of its existence.
• Then I would run, as far and as fast as possible. I had a bike, and though I could ride it without training wheels, I knew I could go even faster with them, with less risk of falling.
• Lastly, I would find a place to live. I had some cash saved, and I could take some of Father’s money, knowing he wouldn’t be needing it anymore.
That night, as Mother went into the basement, her screams resonating through the house, I seized the opportunity to quietly lock the door without her knowledge. I had already prepared my bike outside and packed everything I needed in my satchel. As the lock clicked shut, I heard the screaming momentarily stop, but it was enough to confirm that she had heard me. I ran, as fast as my legs would carry me. The padlock secured the door, a massive steel barrier three feet thick. Mother didn’t want anything in or out. And that was exactly what I desired.
Pedalling down the deserted streets, a glimmer of hope appeared. But then, there she stood – Mother, standing in front of my bike, grinning with sinister delight.