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Rated: E · Fiction · Tragedy · #2179919
A mother looses her daughter in a freak accident and Struggles with the affects of life.
"Shelby!! "Shelby wake up! Oh my god, somebody help me! Please, my baby is still in there! Shelby, baby come on sweety open your eyes! SOMEONE HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!" Martha screamed.

"Ma'am get away from the car, gas is leaking everywhere, it's going to explode! Get away now!"

"NO! I'm not leaving without my baby! The doors are stuck!! Shelby!!

"Somebody help me grab her! PLEASE!"

*EXPLOSION*

"NOO!! Sheeelllbyyy!!!{{i}


Martha Winter woke up screaming with her arms out stretched in front of her. She was dreaming of the accident that took her daughter's life five years before, at the sweet young age of one years old....just one day before her second birthday. Hit by a drunk driver on their way home from the store, the car spun in circles, Martha had hit her head on the window and the steering wheel and was bleeding badly....Shelby, on the other hand, had died upon impact of the crash. As Martha got out and went around the car to try and open the doors, she couldn't, they were stuck tight.

Martha had to break the window to reach her daughter, but was pulled back as soon as she started to unbuckle her. She pushed them back and tries again but is then grabbed by a stronger person, struggling to get free, she is dragged away from the wreckage and from her daughter. When Martha finally broke free and runs towards the car, it explodes, and she is thrown back by the explosion and lands heavily on her back knocking the wind out of her.

Martha got up, holding her chest, staggering towards the car and crying, she ran again towards the now burning car in hopes that maybe she can at least save her daughter's body, but is held back once more, and finally, she drops to her knees, rocking back and fortieth, screaming her lungs out. She then realized that the drunk driver had survived. So she got up, still not able to walk correctly and started slowly walking towards him, then, out of no where, she ran up to him fists balled up so tight and slugged him to the ground as he was getting out of his truck. She kept punching him and kicking him, as hard as she could, harder and harder with every blow making sure he could feel her rage and would have more then enough broken bones in his body that she knew she took the pleasure in remembering for what he just did to her little girl.

Everyone just stepped back and let her do it, then she started stomping on the driver, crushing more bones underneath her feet as he screamed in agony for her to stop. Martha didn't stop, she couldn't stop, so she continued, she stomped on his face, breaking more then just his nose, then his shoulders, and finally stomped his chest the hardest of all before someone grabbed her and said that it was enough. But she wasn't done yet, Martha broke free and got one last good kick to the driver's face, watching his teeth fly out of his mouth as she was pulled away from him again.... Five years later, and she can still feel her hands collide with his bones, she tried to kill him, she wanted him to die, but all he got was medical treatment from the doctors and put in prison for a time for being intoxicated while driving.

Martha was still furious and upset and cried every time Shelby's name came up in therapy. Yes, indeed, Martha Winter, was ruled to go to counseling after almost killing the driver. The doctors had presumed him dead at least three times because his heart stopped three times, each time for ten minuets until he finally pulled through the last time. Martha's hopes were pulled back down with the news but she was somehow relieved too because she didn't kill anyone, even if the bastard was the cause of the now painful hole in her heart and void of loneliness.

Martha went to her counseling appointment that morning of the dream. She told the counselor about her dream and the only thing she always replied with is 'it will be o.k.' but this time, instead of being quiet, she said, "Everyone I talk to, says that everything will be o.k., but how can it be? I lost my little girl. My only child....My only real thing in life that kept me alive." She paused, then continued, "I don't think I will ever understand how it will ever be o.k., or how anyone can ever be o.k. with loosing a child. And every time I come here," Martha ranted on, "I am being told that, 'it will be o.k.' like it's the only thing that you or anyone that I have talked to in the last five years can fucking say to me!" The counselor went silent.

Martha was sitting there in the office, sitting straight up, her head down, fists balled up sitting on her lap. With tears in her eyes, she said one last thing before getting up, "I will not be coming back for anymore appointments. I am done feeling like I am just another person with problems, which in fact I am, but I am done feeling like JUST another problematic person to deal with and waste time getting upset remembering when I don't need to be upset about it. I remember every day that she is not with me because she isn't."

Martha stood up, and walked to the door, "These appointments are pointless and useless. I Know I will be o.k., but the consequences of it all, will NEVER be O.K. and THAT is not o.k." Martha then proceeded to walk out and went straight to her car.

Martha sat there in her car for quite time. She just didn't have the will to go anywhere anymore. These appointments, for five years, have been the same. Everyone of them. Always talking about 'what happened'. She would try to change the subject to something positive coming out of the accident and every time would go back to 'what happened'.
She started the car and decided to go to the store, she was running low on milk anyways, plus, it would keep her out of the house for a little bit.

The store seemed quiet this day as she walked around, grocery cart in hand, and just grabbing whatever she wanted to grab. Since the accident, she was given a large sum of money due to her SSI check every month for anxiety, PTSD, emotional distress of loosing a loved one and constant nightmares from the events of that day. The prescriptions help with that sometimes but the nightmares always consume her on the anniversary of the crash, along with the next day of her daughter's birthday. She grabbed a small cake, a number 7 candle, some ice cream and went to check out.

While at check out, she stood behind an older man who seemed to be giving the cashier a certain look of interest. Martha didn't think too much of it until he saw her and started to lick his lips as he said hi to her. She didn't pay much attention to him but said hi back and finished putting her items on the conveyor belt. After She had cashed out, Martha got the weird inkling that the old man had not left the store yet.
Martha had payed for her things and put them in the trunk of her car. Her inkling of the old man had been correct when she went to open her car door and it was closed again, almost getting her fingers.
A little annoyed, and seemingly unfazed, she said, "Excuse me sir, but I would like to leave now."

The old man smiled and raised his hand, he had a gun pointed at her stomach, and said, "Afraid I can't lets you leave miss. I is suppose' to take ya's somewhere."

Martha's heart started beating rapidly, but instead of panicking, she simply re-positioned her keys so that they were in between her fingers and very calmly said, "Sir, if you need a ride, just ask. You don't need to be to rude and threaten me."

Taken aback by her response, he lowered the gun, and asked, "You is Martha Winter aren't ya?"

Even more annoyed, she said, "Yes, I am, and if you have orders to 'do me in' then do it already and get it over with, if not, move your damn hand so I can go home and celebrate my daughter's birthday in peace. Or," she continued, "you can get in and we can go somewhere, together."

The old man then asked, "Why ain't you scared for your life right now?"

Martha opens the door and says, "I am, but right now, I just really don't care," with tears in her eyes, "I just want to go home and continue to be alone, so either get in or leave me alone, I'll wait." and she gets in the car, leaving the door opened just a crack. The old man puts the gun in his pocket, looks around the parking lot and walks around to the passenger side. She waits for the old man to completely get in and close the door. Then, with the keys still in her hands, she punches the old man in the jaw and starts slashing his face, he reaches for the gun in his pocket, and as he fumbles with it, she stabs him in the stomach with the keys and lifts up toward his ribs, she takes the gun from him with the other hand just as he gets it out of his pocket and rips the keys back out of his stomach smashes his head on the window so hard that it cracked and very calmly gets out of the car, closes the door and locks it.

Martha starts walking back towards the store. When she gets in, the cashier runs up to her asking her if she is okay, because of the blood on her hands, watching her walk in. All Martha can do is give the cashier the gun with a shaky hand and a blank face, she says, "The old man that was in here before, he knew my name....he tried to shoot me. He is, in my car, bleeding. I locked the doors so he couldn't get away and I have his blood in case the cops need it."

The cashier called the cops, they came, asked questions, got her keys from her and surrounded her car. The old man was still in there, and bleeding badly. The ambulance came and took him to the hospital. The cops asked Martha some questions and she explained everything from her meeting with her counselor, then seeing him in the store, to him getting into her car and then her coming back into the store.

Martha was approached by a man with a kit of medical supplies. Martha saw it and said, "I'm fine, really. That kit wont be necessary." As she starts to get up, the man stops her and says, "It's not to take your blood, it's to get the blood from under your nails. It will only take a moment if you let me do it."

Martha, still standing, gives the man her hands as he puts on some gloves. He grabs a scrapping tool and a little evidence bag and starts scrapping the now dried blood from under her finger nails into the bad. Martha looks at the man and he seems to be about the same age as her if not a year or so older and was very handsome and for a slight moment, she forgot why he was there.

He had black hair and brown eyes, his skin tone was the color of a light mocha and he smelled of an expensive cologne that was very lightly put on, not too much, but just enough to tell that he was wearing some. Martha had noticed that she was gazing at him when he met her eyes and she quickly looked away. "Alright miss, your all done." he packed up his kit, she said thank you and he left.

Another officer came up to her and asked her a couple more questions regarding the incident and then called a loner car for her to go home in, she was allowed to grab a couple things from her car, some of the groceries had expired, like the ice cream and the milk but she didn't care. Martha just wanted to go home now.

After a long day, Martha finally got home and decided to start the bath. She kept thinking about the old man and why he needed to take her somewhere. Where was he going to take her? Why her? Why, after everything that has happened, why can't she just get a break from people? So many unanswered questions and a feeling of regret for not letting that old man take her somewhere to finish her off.

Martha didn't know why she fought him off like she did, she feels dead inside as it is, why not just get done in? She was all by herself, her family hardly ever talked to her anymore since the accident with Shelby. So...why not just go be with her? Nothing was keeping her here, but the fact that she would be labeled as a suicide case did not agree with her. That was her respectful way of not dying anytime soon.

She slid deeper into the water until it was up to her nose. She closed her eyes and an instant memory of giving Shelby her first bath appeared in her mind and like a sharp dagger going through her heart, she burst into tears, but the memory was quickly forgotten about when she started to choke on water. Still crying and trying not to drown, she sat up and tried to gather herself up. No one had tried to even pick up her pieces since the accident. She was literally all alone in this and after what happened today, she really considered on writing a note of how she felt and how she just couldn't do it anymore, but as much as she wanted to end her life, she didn't want the memories of Shelby to be gone with her.

Martha got out of the tub, didn't bother to wash, just got up, toweled off and got dressed. She went to the living room, started to look through some movies to see what she wanted to drown her sorrows in until she found something that she hadn't seen in a while......A home video of Shelby on her first birthday. The tears welled up again, as she tipped her head up trying to make them go away, she took the video and put it in.

The first image was of her little girl. Covered in a buttercream chocolate cake, laughing and smiling. Splashing in the melted ice cream that was all over herself and her high chair. Martha remembers that she had to give Shelby a long bath afterwords. She teared up with every memory of her. Martha still has everything Shelby ever owned, having to much heartbreak of the thought of giving it away for some other little girl to play with, or wear the clothes she used to wear.

The video cut out and went to another, this time they were at the park. She was pushing Shelby on the baby swing, she watching the sky with a peaceful mind of not knowing what bad things were out in the world. Martha got up and went to kitchen. Video still playing. She decided to grab the cake she bought earlier and the number 7 candle. Those were the only things she grabbed aside from a couple other bags she got out of her car before the police took it away for investigation. The cashier was even kind enough to buy her another gallon of milk because of what happened.

Martha took the cover off the store bought cake, opened the number 7 candle, and put it in the middle between a pink and yellow flower, and just stared at it. She could hear her voice on the T.V., the fridge humming, cars outside passing by and honking. Then she took her lighter stick, lit the candle, and started to sing:

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, my dear Sheellby, Happy birthday tooo, yooou."

And then Martha, with tears going down her cheeks, blew out the candle.
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