It's been many hours since your mother has fallen asleep, but you still hold her tightly, rocking her back and forth and gently rubbing her hair. It reminded you of when your aunt had just had her baby, and you were the one who helped her take care of the newborn while she rested. She had been very weak after the birth, and your mother was the only one who seemed able to help her.

Unfortunately, as your aunt got weaker, so did the child. There had been complications when she was giving birth, and since she was alone, she hurt parts of her insides without realizing that pain wasn't part of the normal contraction pains. Due to the infection she got after the birthing process, she got very sick, and so did her baby. Neither of them lasted long. Your aunt passed a week before baby Stela, but that last week was torture as you felt the already tiny baby get frailer each day.

Your mother had been very sad, but she saw it coming.

"She should have come to me before the birthing."

"Your uncle should have made sure there was someone there with her in case it time to give birth."

"Women aren't meant to be alone when we're giving life!"

You fed Stela all the milk you could get, but without a healthy mother's warmth and nourishment, she had no way to fight the infection her mother inadvertently passed on to her through her milk and proximity.

You had sworn you would never have a child after Stela, though you still loved children very much.

Now, with your mother's breathe coming out in light puffs, you recall the happiness motherhood promised all those years before, but with even firmer resilience stand your ground on your position.

You lean back a bit more into your bed to get comfortable, but you just can't seem to get to sleep. You feel like there's someone watching you, but you're alone.

'Maybe it's the light,' you think to yourself, turning to blow out the candle.

It's as you blow that you hear the sound of steps heading in your direction from the half opened window.

You quietly snake your way down the bed, and place the pillows in front of your mother to block her from the window's view. Then you crouch at the foot of the window, and wait.

Crunch

Crinch

Crunch

The pale moonlight shines brightly in your now dark room. Your mother is hidden in the shadows, and you under the window. It's not long before you see the shadow of a person standing behind you, and your worries are confirmed.

'There's someone out there.'

Your mother always spent her days at home cleaning if she didn't have any patients to tend to. She would say cleanliness was godliness, and it was God's will for her to help others when they were sick, therefor she had to give Him a good representation when people came through their home. That was why she had cleaning supplies in the corner of every room. Currently, the closest thing for you to grab was the broom about a foot away from where you were currently crouched.

You quietly slide over and pull the handle close to you, being as careful as possible. Your muscles tensing tightly as you get back in position.

Adrenaline courses heavily through your body, but the shadow doesn't move. It just stands there, seemingly content on staring at what is supposed to look like an empty room.

After about an hour of trying to keep yourself flat against the wall, waiting for an attack, your mother begins to stir in the bed.

You panic, but are relived when you glance back down to the floor and see that the shadow is no longer at your window anymore.

'Hopefully it wasn't one of them,' you think warily to yourself, slowly rising up and peeking out the window.

If it had been one of them, you doubt they would have given up the opportunity to come in through an open window. It's not like they were that big. You're about to close the window, but your mom starts to reach out. You don't want her to panic over you not being there so you forgo the window and go back.

Once you are in bed, your motherly sleepily rises up on her elbow and asks, "Where did you go?"

You pat her hand and respond, "I just wanted to stretch my legs a bit. Don't worry, ok. I'm sorry for scaring you, mama."

You grab your longest pillow to hug, but turn away from your mom when she decides she wants to hug you to get back to sleep.

As you start to finally nod off, you catch a glimpse of the window one last time. It's not until the following morning when you hear your mom lightly snoring behind you, and see the soft rays of the sun shining in that you realize, 'I never closed the window.'

So why was it closed now?