Pyromaniac.

Chapter 1

Where did Connors fascination of starting fires ever spark from, what triggered it? Why did he think this was a good coping mechanism. These are the details that i believe were missed out on the actual show, so I decided to write a story.

Christine's eyes fell on the paintings of Mickey Mouse and Thomas the Tank Engine that decorated the wall of the children's ward in the hospital. Christine then focused her attention on the little three year old boy lay in the hospital bed. Her little boy. How could she have let this happen? She had turned her back for no more than 5 minutes, to be greeted with her sons hysterical cries as he lay at the bottom of the stairs.

*Flashback to earlier that day*

Christine poured some of the clear liquid that she treasured into her coffee mug, vodka. She took a few sips before she heard the patter of small footsteps coming down the stairs. She put her mug to the side and stood up.

"Mummy," Connor mumbled as he walked into the living room holding his favourite teddy. Having obviously just woken up.

"Morning baby," Christine smiled, lifting him into her arms and giving him a cuddle before sitting him at the table and giving him some toast for breakfast, she then sat him in front of the television watching cartoons whilst she topped up her mug.

Connors afternoon consisted of watching back to back episodes of Thomas the Tank and Bob the Builder, around 3pm, Christine entered the living room. "Why don't we go tidy your toys up from your bedroom Mr," she smiled ticking her son playfully and taking his hand as they walked up stairs.

"That's it sweetie put all your books in the drawer,"'Christine smiled ruffling her sons hair. She turned around to see Connor sat on the floor with his toy cars "wanna play,"'the three year old happily cheered. "ok, but you tidy up when you're finished,"'Christine smiled.

She then decided if Connor was playing in his room she could go downstairs and food the washing, whilst having a sneaky drink. She knew when Connor played in his bedroom he usually occupied himself for at least a couple of hours. He was a happy child and liked playing on his own. Christine left Connors room and opened the safety gate at the top of the stairs, forgetting to close it over as she walked downstairs.

Christine entered the kitchen, pouring herself a large glass of wine before doing anything, she took a few well needed large gulps before sorting some washing out and putting it into the machine washing. She then took the bottle of wine and her glass into the living room and sat on the couch. An hour passed by at this time, no surprise. Christine had drank her way through the full bottle of wine and was currently reaching in the fridge for another bottle. Completely forgetting that she had left Connor playing upstairs. She opened her second bottle and returned to her position in the living room.

Connor decided himself after nearly two hours of playing with his toys in his room upstairs that he was bored. The three year old picked his toys up from the floor and placed them into the toybox. "mummy?" He shouted "mummmmmy?"'he called again. Meanwhile Christine was slumbering on the couch after finishing every drop of those both wine bottles, she was too out of it, she barely heard her sons shouting. Connor frowned when his mum never came to get him, he toddled out of his bedroom and realised the safety gate was open. He smiled, he would go down the stairs himself and surprise his mum. One reason Christine had a safety gate at the top and bottom of the stairs was because her stairs were very steep. Connor started climbing down the stairs, he was doing well until he stumbled and lost his balance, tumbling down the stairs and slamming in to the gate at the bottom, he screamed out for his mum as he hysterically cried in pain.

Christine was awoken by the sound of thumping, she was about to cover her ears with a cushion, assuming it was the neighbours banging around next door when she heard hysterical screams and realised it was coming from the hall. Connor. Christine bolted up, ignoring the dull ache in her head and rushed to the bottom of the stairs, her heart nearly stopped when she seen Connor at the bottom of the stairs, he was crying and clearly hurt. She did the first thing she could think of, phoning her mum. Despite having an argument the day previous.

"Mum I need your help...no mum please listen...Mum it's Connor...he's had a bad fall...Mum he's fallen down the stairs...no I'm just about to call an ambulance...Ok hurry up and get here...bye"

The rest was a bit of a blur for Christine, she barely remembered the paramedics arriving and whisking her baby to hospital. She just remembers ending up on the children's ward, holding her sons hand as he slept. Connor had been lucky not to have been more severely injured but I would call suffering a mild concussion and a break to the arm as well as severe bruises and scrapes, exactly being lucky. But for Christine she was riddled with guilt, having sobered up with the impact of seeing her son lay in a ball at the bottom of the stairs. How could she walk away and leave him upstairs? She knew Connor wasn't the most steady of toddlers on his feet, he was quite clumsy actually as it goes. But that was no excuse. She should have been look after him, not necking down wine.

That night as she sat holding her sleeping toddlers hand, glad he was going to be okay luckily. Connors attitude was as bubbly as normal when he woke up and he ate some dinner no problem. The doctor just wanted to keep him in for observation over night. Christine made a promise to herself that night that she would never put alcohol before her son again.

Let me know what you think please and if it's worth me continuing this story!