In Vain of the Children

She should have waited with the children.

She should have stayed inside, wrapped her arms around the bunch and kept them safe instead of going outside to look for the missing one. She was sure they were crying for her at that very moment, wondering when she would return with their broken brother in her arms. But every time she felt the gravel cutting up her feet as she was dragged across the pavement, she realized that she would not return to their tiny hands and faces.

She tried to wrench her head so she could see her killer, but he had her by the hair and every time she tried to move, he'd pull just to hear her scream out. She tried not to scream; she'd learned that from a tv show about serial killers. In retrospect, it didn't seem to help her at all. It seemed a waste of time.

The trip on the pavement was shorter than she'd wanted. In moments, she felt her weight lifted from the ground. The man, her killer, slung her over his shoulder and another moment went by before he threw her into the trunk of an old car. She didn't see the outside of it or the color, but it smelled like mold and didn't feel like it was carpeted anymore.

The door of the trunk shut and she let out a soft whimper before turning around to find some sort of comfortable spot. However, the sight she saw when she turned to her side made her so discomforted she couldn't move anymore. It was a small boy, curled up in the back, pale as snow and limp as dead grass. Once she regained the feeling in her arms, she reached out and pulled him towards her.

"Baby, baby..." she whispered, rocking him back and forth in her arms, willing him to be alive. It was no use. The boy had no pulse. Her son was dead. She let out a sob and squeezed him tighter but the growing pain in her chest wouldn't fade away.

The car began to rumble less and the brakes began to screech to a stop. She continued to hold her son. The door of the trunk opened and cold air rushed in, but she still didn't let go. She turned head, to maybe catch a glimpse of the man and instead caught a glimpse of a glimmer of the knife in the moonlight.

Something in her mind begged her to do something, to fight back. It was only one man. One man who'd killed her son and left her children all alone.

But instead, all she found herself thinking is that she should've stayed with the children.