His Mother’s Son

Journal of Haytham Lee, aged 12


No. It didn’t happen, it didn’t.

I know I said I was beginning to hate Mother, because he never stood up for himself, but...

I didn’t mean for me, Mother. I meant for the babies. I can take care of myself, but they’re still so little...

Was.

How could you, Father?

You’re despicable. You’re...

I was going to be a Big Brother. Play around with the twins and teach them how to do things and damn you Father...

Oh God. There was so much blood, and Mother wasn’t even moving and...

I don’t know who dragged me away, but whoever did, you had no right!

No right at all, you hear me?

I heard them, through the door. Doctor Davies told Father that the babies were dead.

And, oh God, the babies. He said that Doctor White was still working to get them out of Mother and...

He said that it was lucky that he was coming to call and that Doctor White was on a monthly checkup.

Lucky?

The babies are dead!

They’re...

I’ve always wanted a baby brother or sister to play with. Someone to lead and teach and have fun with...

If it’s lucky, then why aren’t the babies still alive right now? Why is no one saying how Mother is?

Mother...

You had no right to drag me away from Mother. No right to lock me in this room.

Mother might be dying, and...

It’s not right.

I yelled at him. I threw Grandfather’s cup at him.

And now he might be dying, and you won’t even let me near him because you’re afraid of...what?

You think that I’m too childish to be around Mother when he might...

I’m 12! I’m 12 and a young man, and I love Mother and...

Oh God.

Oh God.

I told Mother that I thought he was stupid, and that those people deserved to die.

I told Mother that I thought he didn’t care that Uncle and Grandfather are dead.

I told him...

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

And I threw my cup at him.

I thought I hated him.

I don’t.

I really, really don’t.

I was just mad and...

Please God, whoever, please.

I didn’t mean it, I...

Mother’s been good to me. He’s played with me and taught me and raised me.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry.

Please don’t let Mother die.

Please.

Oh God, I have to get out of here. I can’t be here, in this locked room.

I can’t...

Please, let me go to Mother. Don’t lock me in here.

Call Father or, or Doctor White or even Doctor Davies.

I can’t stay in here while Mother may be dying.

I can’t let throwing a cup be my last memory of my Mother.

I can’t...

My page is getting too damp.

I can’t write anymore.

Please don’t die Mother.

Pleasepleasepleaseplease.

Please.