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“And here’s Henry.” The lady smiled sadly down at him.
Tommy’s face lit up at the sight of his favourite stuffed cow, one he had gotten from an arcade machine a few years ago.
Kristin taunted him with the toy, holding it just above his reach from where he lay on the bed far too large for a twelve-year-old.
The boy reached his short arms up in a lame attempt to catch his mother out.
A few sirens sounded outside and loud bangs echoed through the city. The curtains were drawn and firmly locked yet Tommy still turned away from his mum to anxiously look out the window, his small heart beating too quickly to keep up with.
Kristin noticed that she had lost the boy’s attention and quickly placed a warm hand on his pink cheeks, drawing his focus back to her kind face.
“I’m scared,” Tommy mumbled quietly, and Kristin’s careful face softened but refused to let herself crumble before her boy.
She pulled back the grey covers, causing her son to wail at the lack of warmth. “Hey bud, it’s okay,” Kristin assures him and lowers Henry to Tommy’s chest before pulling the covers back over him.
Kristin reached over to the bedside table with a white shaded lamp sitting upon it. She switched the lamp on before standing from where she was sitting on the bed to turn the light switch off.
Tommy’s big blue eyes - almost unnoticeable due to his now grown-out blonde hair - looked at her with curiosity as she wandered back over to his bed.
His mother looked back at him with the kindest look on her face, though Tommy wasn’t dumb, he could see the pain forced to the back of her mind.
The boy had always been good at reading emotions. After losing his brother to a death caused by nobody but his own blood-covered hands, Tommy had sworn to himself and his late sibling that he wouldn’t let anyone slip again. It took months of research and analysis for the kid to master the art of facial expressions.
Kristin had always tried her best to remain optimistic no matter the situation. He vaguely remembered a day when she swore to always be strong for nobody else but her son.
“I love you, mum.” He whispered gently as she ran a shaking hand through his curly hair.
Her heart melted at the words, “I love you too, Tom.” She hummed. To Tommy, his mother sounded like an angel.
Kristin slowly walked out of the room, turning to look back at Tommy a few times.
Maybe if Tommy had kept his eyes open for a single second longer he would’ve noticed the teardrop tumbling down his mother’s face.
-
When Tommy awoke the next morning, it wasn’t to the smell of sweet pancakes or his mum singing along to a funky 80s song. It was to silence. Far too quiet.
Henry was still curled up against the young boy and he only gripped the stuffed toy tighter as he clumsily jumped out of bed.
He had gone to bed in a dumb spiderman t-shirt they found in an abandoned thrift store one time, as well as red checkered pants that were far too big for him.
“Mum?” He called out, pushing open the door to his bedroom.
The whole house was quiet and oh so still. A vintage clock in the hallway told him it was around nine in the morning, his mother would definitely be awake by now.
He peaked his small head into her bedroom. The curtains were open and the bed was cleanly made. Pictures of her, Tommy and his brother lined the walls, most of them being Tommy pulling a funny face while the other two smiled politely.
Tommy’s mum always used to light-heartedly scold him for never smiling normally in photos, the only one being the one after his brother had passed where he felt nowhere near in the mood to pull his usual toothy smirk, more so just putting on a very fake grin.
He pulled the door closed again and continued on into the living room and kitchen which were both, once again, empty.
Kristin had never left the house without Tommy or at least warn him.
Tommy eventually decided to just sit on the couch to wait for her return.
Because she would come back.
She wouldn’t leave Tommy.
He must have fallen asleep at some point because when he next opened his eyes they felt heavy and his neck was in agony from being propped up on the arm of the couch.
A scratching at the door quickly woke him from tiredness. His mother was home!
The boy bounded towards the door, Henry left and forgot on the couch in his hurry.
Kristin probably forgot her keys again, it’s happened before and Tommy was forced to climb in the window with the help of his brother, who boosted him up the three-foot wall.
He slid across the tiles and unlocked the door, opening his arms wide to be embraced by his mother.
But that wasn’t what happened. Because when could anything ever go right for Tommy?
At first, something gripped him back. It felt wrinkly and smelt foul.
A sharp pain burst into his neck and he only realized then that this certainly wasn’t his mother.
Tommy kicked and screamed, fighting the zombie with as much power as a kid his size could muster. Sweat built up on his forehead and he couldn’t tell if it was from pure exhaustion or the bite on his neck.
A warm liquid trickled down his neck and a splatter of blood lay on the tiles below him.
Black spots flooded his vision and only for a second could he see the look in the zombie’s flushed eyes; regret.
The boy eventually gave up fighting, letting the creature take whatever was left of him.
And Kristin was left to stare painfully at the boy she had ruined, her own son left to die by her hands.
So why didn’t she regret it?