The tire swing soars higher. I turn, tears dripping off my chin and reach out for her. “No Mommy! Please don't leave me!”
“I'm sorry little bird.” Mommy catches the tire swing by the rope handles and places her lips against my ear. I can feel her skin resting against mine. Her flesh is cold. Clammy. Dead. “I'll always love you, Adelaide. Now be good and fly away,” she whispers. Her voice isn't warm anymore. It's scratchy, raspy, and ragged.
“I want you to fly with me, Mommy. Please,” I beg her in my tiny voice and choke on a sob lodged in my throat. “Please Mommy. I want you to fly with me.”
I face her and rest my forehead against the rope. The sky darkens, the bright colors evaporate, and raindrops that look like ashes float down from the heavens, coating the dead brown and yellow grass in our front yard. Mommy walks backwards, slowly. Wobbly. I try to run after her, but an invisible force straps my thighs to the swing. Thrashing, I contort the upper half of my body as far as I can. Pain stabs at my heart and I cry out for her one last time. “Mommy! No!”
The woman I see behind me isn't my mommy. The woman behind me has skin that's melting away from her bones, all dull, gray, and lifeless. Her vibrant violet eyeballs are bulging from her head, and tiny droplets of blood drip from her sockets.
I scream.
I sob.
I shake.
Out of fear and out of pain.
The woman behind me begins to disintegrate. Her skin melts away from her muscles and organs and turns to ash when it hits the ground. She's open, exposed, and I can see her heart pounding. I hear her life-force thumping.
Ba boom.
Ba boom.
Seconds later the pinkish, red organs' steady beat slows before the organ itself shrivels into a deep crimson colored rock and falls out of her chest. Dropping my head into my small hands, I cry quietly to myself. The woman behind me is not my mommy.
No...
The woman behind me is nothing but a corpse.
Bravely, I lift my head, daring myself to take one last look at the grotesque scene before me. My eyes widen and I shudder.
Now the corpse is nothing but a pile of bones.
A thick gust of wind whips through the trees and the pile of bones behind me turns to dust. Soon they are tossed up into the air and it hits me that the only remnant of my mommy is glittering dust particles being carried away by the wind. “Please,” I cry out and suddenly the invisible barrier fusing me to the hot rubber of the tire vanishes. I'm able to move. I hop up from the swing in a flash, chasing after Mommy. I claw at the air, but can’t grasp one piece of my mommy, and I am forced to watch her blow away.
“No,” I sob quietly. “No.”
Then I hear a voice. I think it's a man's voice. “Sweetheart.” Now there are fingertips on my shoulder. “Get up.” Someone shakes me. “We're here.”
The bus driver's bulging belly is an inch from my face and he's hovering over me. He smells of cigar smoke and lunch meat from the deli and the buttons on his flannel shirt look like they're about to pop off. His cheeks are rosy, his eyes kind. I can tell he means me no harm, but I am so startled and groggy from my slumber, and my awful dream that I cower away from him, huddling in the crook of my seat. I remember Damien taking a seat next to me and reach out for him, desperate to feel him squeeze my fingertips, but I feel nothing.
I am grabbing at air.
Panic clutches onto the walls of my stomach and I bolt from my seat. My abrupt action startles the bus driver and his back hits the seat across from mine. “Where is he?” I gasp as my eyes wash over every seat on the bus. “Where did he go? What did you do with him?”
The bus driver scrunches his chubby face and scratches the bald spot on his head. “Sweetheart, you're confused.” He reaches out to me, but I push past him, running down the aisle my eyes scouring frantically over ever seat. “Let me help you inside.”
I don't need this man to help me inside. I need him to tell me where Damien is. “What have you done with him?” I raise my voice as I run down the aisle a second time, making sure I check underneath the seats. “He was here a little bit ago and now he's gone.” I stand and lurch forward. My knees wobble and I do the best I can to lock them in place. “Please, sir,” I beg. “Tell me where he is. Did you let him off somewhere?” I catch myself on the corner of the seat when my knees give out. “I know he was here.” I point to the empty seat where I was sitting. “He sat right next me.” He told me he'd follow me anywhere.
And now he's gone.
The bus driver lifts his stubby arms in a calming gesture. “Now calm down.” Bravely and with wary eyes he takes a step forward. “Sweetheart. Now you know there was no one else on this bus aside from you and me.”
I frown, clench my fists and spit out, “You're lying.”
His eyes widen and even though he takes another step forward, I can tell by how tense his limbs are that he's terrified of me. “Now why would I lie about that?” His voice comes out soft, but forced. “You need to realize he was never...”
The loud crack of my hand against the bus driver's cheek bounces off the painted sea green metal ceiling and it occurs to me that something inside of me has been chipped away. I've lost it. I've really and truly lost my mind. And if that isn't enough, I can't stop my heart from aching or my temper from flaring. I don't want to face reality.