Mother birds are among the most devoted caregivers in the animal world. They hide their eggs, search tirelessly for food, and stay alert to every threat. Their love is quiet but fierce. And when the time comes, they offer one last gift to their kin: a gentle push into the world below them. 

Flying always begins with a dive. Mine started with that baby sparrow’s demise, and Susan’s last act of selflessness secured it. Mom sacrificed herself so I could have a future beyond my constraints, giving me the freedom I needed to reach my full potential.

She saw me as her baby girl, the holy promise God had sent her as a reward for enduring my Father’s ways. Her love persevered through the mutilated animal corpses I buried among her beautiful flowers. I was her most precious treasure.

When I found Josh, it was like laying eyes on my own prized diamond. I pictured his school years, him working somewhere during summer, the first heartbreak, me drying his tears, taking him out to his favorite pizza place, colleges all over the country wishing my boy would attend them.

I’d encourage him to spread his wings and to pursue his dreams, just as my mother once did for me. But I never expected life to reverse our roles, leaving me vulnerable and dependent in a moment as dramatic as Christmas Eve.

First came the excruciating pain, taking over my body. Then, as my surroundings faded to darkness,  memories and  flashes rushed in like a cruel stampede.

Inside the turmoil, something pulsed.

“Honeybee?”

It warmed my dormant senses.

“Theresa, dear? It’s time to wake up. You don’t wanna miss all the fun, do you?”

The tips of my toes felt tingly.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!”

“Ugh…”

My head buzzed and pulled me out of that unwanted slumber. My memories vanished. An ominous sensation guided me from when  I opened my eyes to the moment they restrained me. It all happened at once.

Sedated and confused, I watched things unfold and tried to find a way to release myself. As the firefighters made a commotion around me, I read their name tags.

Hoffman was a young woman; her hair had a very artificial blond shade. Martínez seemed seasoned, a handsome, muscular man in his 30s, with curly hair and the beautiful tan that Latinos bear. The older man was Hughes; his piercing green eyes like a crystalline natural pool. The last one, Tremblay, had a big hooked nose.

I believed there was no way to recover what I had lost. But pain motivated me-pain stronger than any physical injury in  my ankle, head or rib. That pain came not from my body, but from  Josh’s words, which hurt more than anything else, reminding me of why I fought so hard..

“C-can you release my real mama now, so I can stop calling Ms. Graham my mama?”

Memories came flooding back: life in a small town, borrowing Shanaya’s last name, college graduation, sweet Mr. Thompson, blood-sucking Steele, my beloved Mrs. Jones, and Josh, the light of my days. He was my son, who had just returned to me.

You can’t have him!

I bared my teeth, cackled, and lunged at him. Hughes pulled the boy, as the others could barely react and had their hands on me again.

“Ma’am, please, calm down! Or we’ll have to call the cops before helping you!” Hoffman warned and dragged me back to the stretcher.

“That was funny, buddy, haha!” My laughter shuddered as I flailed, “But they can misunderstand what’s going on here. Tell them the truth!”  

The stomping below got louder, his tiny hands clutching even harder to the old man’s sleeve.

“I swore to protect you and your mother, and I’ll stick to that promise until the end of my days. But please don’t let them think I hurt you both.”

Hughes glanced at the kid and scanned him. The purple mark stood out on the boy’s soft, white cheeks. He crouched to stay at his eye level.

“Who did this to you, tough guy?”

Josh couldn’t hold the tears anymore.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re here to help. You can tell us.”

The kid sobbed and whispered, “I-it was my dad. He hurt Mommy, too.”

“And where is he?”

His little finger rose and indicated the basement.

“Martinez, Tremblay.”

Adrenaline still rushed through my body as the two firefighters forced the door open. The scent of death filled the air, while the sound of pounding and muffled screams became clearer, merging chaos with the present moment.

They went down with caution and soon found the scene I had left.  “Sir, there’s a male body here, and a woman tied to a chair. She seems unharmed!” yelled one. 

“What the hell?” The lieutenant looked puzzled.

I sighed. They’d release Mia, and she would confirm this was all a misunderstanding. I acted out of love and a need to protect both her and Josh. I hoped we might talk again, giving her another chance to recognize my intentions and consider joining us in what I believed would be a brighter, safer future for Josh.

Or, if I had to, I’d protect myself and Josh by force—drive my knife into Hoffman’s neck, drop Hughes while the others were still below, then wait for Mia to step into view and carve through Martinez and Tremblay on the stairs. Their numbers were against me, so tactics and timing were everything.

The blond woman had a firm grip on me. Still,  I could reach for the back of my pants. A chill ran down my spine. My fingers didn’t feel the cold of the steel anymore.

Where is it? They didn’t take it away, what – 

From that moment on, life played in slow motion. As Mia appeared and her wailing filled the room, my little man left the firefighter’s side to run into her arms. Everything that had happened converge around us. Even then, she made me wonder if baroque artists hadn’t used her beauty as inspiration.

A cough brought the horrible pain back, along with a taste of iron and a vivid-red, viscous liquid that gushed out of my mouth. I gasped for air, but all that came was a bubbling gurgle. Strength left me. Hoffman tightened her grip, but gently laid me on the ground.

I saw her lips move, but I wasn’t able to discern whether she was talking or screaming. The firefighters gathered around me; their synchronized movements reminded me of a gymnastics team. Mrs. Jones’ face appeared by my side too, her beautiful green eyes and  upturned nose red from crying.

My head swung to the right when another wave of pain hit. At a distance, Josh stared at me, eyes full of concern. More blood ran down my cheeks, but I smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll be okay. We’ll be together soon,” I mumbled. The world turned black again.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero