This is my first ever story other than one I posted and then deleted because I realized how bad it was so I'm very nervous! Please tell me how to improve because I daresay it's awful and I need ways to improve.
For Mum, 26 April 1971- 18 August 2010
Time of Death
By Ella Kovac
Every night I travel back to that moment; to the second in which the blonde doctor stood away and gave the nurse a look. I couldn't correctly interpret the look at the time but now I look back it was clear what was coming next. The nurse too stepped away from mum and they back gave a sort of sad-half smile.
'Time of death 18:42'
I think, at that moment, everything froze for me. It froze for Dad too, and Jude and maybe even for Finn and Ciaran, though I doubt they knew what was happening. Dad and Mum weren't even married any more but I think he knew what it meant; I think he still cared about her, loved her, if not in the way he used to. The doctor looks devastated, the nurse does too. I don't know if it's the fact someone's died, or the fact that a mother has died before her youngest child reached four.
Or perhaps they're just sad that it's another point against them, perhaps they're just upset that it worsens their mortality rate.
'Time of death 18:42'
The words still ring in my ears, even now. I hate them. I never want to hear them again; I never, ever want anyone else to die on me. I'd rather be dead myself. I think the words hurt more than the action. They were clarification and maybe we didn't want clarification. She'd been ill for ages, we'd know it was coming but then again we hadn't. Because none of us knew what it was like to lose her, not yet, not until she was gone. The blonde doctor came over and mumbled some incomprehensible words along the lines of sorry and something about them doing their best. A dull ache began to form in my head; it began to pierce through the left side of my head and caused tears to prickle in my eyes.
Everything went blurry. Everything. Including my hearing; I couldn't hear anything and all I could see was an inconsistent white smudge. I felt Dad and Jude move from either side of me and I think they took Finn and Ciaran with them. I think the nurse said something to me; he was tall. I remember the soft feel of his hand on my shoulder, trying to be reassuring but just reminding me of how Mum used to put her hand there.
But her hand would never be there again.
'Time of death 18:42'
I hear it again. I want to shout, I want to scream, tell them I know she's dead, tell them they don't need to keep telling me again. That's when the tears really come and I collapse onto my knees, crumbling to pieces. I cry. And cry. And cry. I bash my palms on the floor and try to dig my nails in but it doesn't work. I drag them across the floor towards me, capturing something in my hands, though even I don't know what. Maybe I'm trying to claw Mum's life back. I hold my hands into my chest, clasping them together. The ache in my head slowly relocates, gradually spreading and moving down to my chest. I can't decide if this pain is worse but I decide it's irrelevant; Mum went through far more.
Suddenly, I feel strong arms I don't recognise grabbing me and scooping me up. I don't look up. I just curl up into a tight ball and try to work out who's taking me and where I'm being taken. Perhaps I'm dead too. I might be going with Mum. I might have died of a broken heart.
I'm dropped gently onto a cushioned chair and I feel the chair sink gently down. Then a voice whispers to me. 'I know what it feels like.' Now I open my eyes. And I look the speaker in the eyes; she has blue eyes like mine and she's the blonde doctor from earlier. She speaks with a voice full of empathy. I shake my head.
'You can't' I croak, grasping onto some of my pyjama top and fiddling with the button.
'I can.' She says, her eyes now beginning to brim with her own tears. 'I wasn't much older than you when I lost my mum.' She explains and I shake my head again. 'I know what it's like to lose a mum, I know how you feel.' She says forcefully, persisting with her point. I think she's stupid. She doesn't know how I feel.
'Your Mum is dead.' I say, shocked at how harsh and bitter I'm sounding 'but your Mum isn't my Mum. You don't know how I feel because you don't know what it's like to lose my Mum.' She begins to speak again, I think she's agreeing with me but still trying to back up her point. But I don't hear because there are other words blocking her out.
'TIME OF DEATH 18:42'