Behind Your Walls

33 | missing in action

She is unusually quiet. Maybe it is because she is sleeping but I have never seen my Mom this quiet with me. We talk for hours, repeating the same thing again and again just because we cannot stay silent when we are together.

We have been each other's only female companions for life. There are no others with whom we can gossip about random shit, boys, make-up, or fashion. Stephen comes close to the fashion and boys part but the rest I have for is Mom.

Her red hair is splayed out on the white pillow where she lies wearing a blue patient gown with her breathing steady and slow. The monitors attached to her beep, breaking the eerie silence of the room. I have always loved her hair; I wish I had her hair color. She has always been the prettiest woman in my life. I am not proud of anything which I am except for the fact that I am her daughter.

I have always been proud of that and I always will be.

My mother is strong. Not the rage kind of strong. She carries her strength in her calmness. She is reasonable, independent, and not afraid to love. It is a different thing that one of her choices turned out to be bad but she isn't to be blamed for that. She was just trying to move on and be happy.

I lift her hand slowly and press a kiss on her knuckles. The skin is rough like it needs moisture. She has never been rough and her condition makes me want to scream. A finger moves and I look at her face to find her eyelids slowly opening themselves up.

She sighs, blinking for some time and then wincing when she mistakenly tries to move causing the bandage around her stomach to tighten on her wound.

"Mom, please don't move," I say, reaching forward and moving strands of hair from her cheek to tuck them behind her ear.

She looks at me without moving her head and I find a smile on its way to her lips. They are dried and patched which makes her lick her lips with her tongue to wet them.

"How have you been, love?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

I have to lean forward until I am just an inch away from her cheek so that I can hear her.

"Good, Mommy," I reply, placing her hand on my cheek, letting the familiar feeling of motherly love greet me.

I close my eyes as a teardrop slips from my eye.

"Is he safe?"

She looks at me with hope in her eyes and my eyebrows come together to showcase confusion.

"Who?" I question, holding my breath.

Even the thought that she might be referring to Panther, that she is concerned about his safety after what he did to her is appalling to me.

"Carter," she says, her thumb brushing over my cheekbone. "Your...boyfriend probably."

I exhale in relief. "He is...he is safe."

The last time I saw him he was indeed alive and healthy, hitting Devon with all the strength he has got. I am still upset with Carter. I asked Stephen to drop me at the hospital instead of taking the bus to go back to Carter's house. With my current state of emotions for his reckless behavior, I am sure I would have ended up saying things to him that I did not mean.

"And..." She breaks her gaze from me to look at the ceiling as she speaks, her voice full of hesitation. "What about Panther? Is he...dead?"

The relief drops from my face, disgust replacing the emotion just as quickly.

"No," I inform her.

She squeezes my hand and I find tears escaping from the corners of her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Maya," she sighs. "I didn't pay heed to your warnings. I should have done something."