That was last week, almost a year after she'd been hit by that car.
He would have been nineteen today.
His middle aged mother sat in her son's old room and contemplated texting him.
Surely if her phone was somehow able to send this message (a delay from some other time?)
the she would be able to send one back or even hear his answering machine message.
She didn't want to think about how the message had been sent in the first place.
Her dear son's phone had been just as crushed as the rest of him.
Taking a deep breath she sent a brief message to her son's number, "Okay, see you soon. x".
She felt relieved when it successfully sent, it was nice to think she could almost talk to him.
She wasn't expecting a reply.
"on my way now x"
She certainly wasn't expecting to hear those familiar thumping footsteps leading to the front door.
Slowly moving towards the bedroom's window she peered through the curtain.
He looked like he had after the accident, head crushed, spine twisted and blood leaking all over.
Keys in hand he opened the front door and she ducked back to sit on the bed.
Panicked at the thought of actually meeting her deceased son she hid under his bed.
Trying to calm her breathing she lay among the things strewn under there.
Mom, are you home? Hello, is anyone here? his voice rattled out, she cringed and held her breath.
His thudding footsteps said he was heading to the stairs.
Mom? Hello? he sounded so young, like he had as a child.
She went to move out, to greet her baby until a lower voice growled Come out mom, I miss you.
Was this really her son or did she call something else into her home accidentally?
Those heavy steps headed towards the room she was in and she saw the door open slowly.
Blood was almost pouring from him as he stepped over to the bed.
She noticed he wasn't breathing, what had her son become?
His feet stopped inches away from the bed.
He crouched down.
It wasn't her son.
Not any more.
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