Broken Runaway

 

I held my little baby brother, Leo, close to my chest. My long hair dripped, the rain pouring down in the street, into his sleeping face. I squeezed myself into a corner of the alley and readjusted the Blue’s Clues fleece blanket, that I had grabbed from the living room, tighter around our shivering bodies. However, it was not the cold that was making me shiver.

Only an hour ago my father had completely fallen apart. Only an hour ago my mother left. Only an hour ago I packed to leave for grandmothers to save the remainder of our family. Only an hour ago I had left and never looked back. Our perfect family had changed in only one hour.

Before that I had sat at home on my bed and cried my heart out. My baby brother was in my arms, unaware the family was falling apart. Unaware that it would take years for everything to be okay again.

It seemed like days ago, but it had only been an hour earlier. My mother sat in the hospital bed, as her breaths came out shorter and shorter, while she clung to baby Leo. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke.

“Take care of Leo,” she whispered to me.  The moment I took Leo away from her she fell on the bed. Lifeless and dead. I sobbed forever tears falling down my face.

Before that, my father and I waited in the room. Anxious to see how the surgery had gone. If she would make it. I prayed that she would, but when my mother came back in, I knew it was hopeless. She looked so pale, and frail.

About three hours earlier, a nurse had come in and announced my mother had an infection, but they would fix it. She was taken away, and she waved as she left the room. I held onto Leo, and buried my face in his cute belly.

Before that, I sat on the couch, and rocked my crying baby brother to sleep. He was so small, and cute. My mother smiled down at me, and my father grabbed her hand. They smiled at each other, and looked so proud of me.

“I’ll name him Leo,” My mother said, and held out her arms for her new son.

That morning, I had sat on the couch at my friend Ava’s house, and waited for my father to pick me up. The doorbell rang, and I was out the door and in the car in a heartbeat. I hopped up and down with excitement as my father got into the car.

Last night, my mother had been rushed off to the hospital. My dad called at midnight, his voice full of happiness. He told me he would pick me up tomorrow when the baby was born, and that everything was going great.

Before that, it had been my birthday.

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