Chapter 57: A Mother’s Woe in the Cold World
Zara’s breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, her chest heaving violently against the cold, harsh air. She was still crouched in the snow, her knees numb from the icy ground beneath her, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She couldn’t do anything except grip her throbbing head, as though trying to hold it together, trying to keep her mind from shattering into pieces.
I shouldn’t have left him. The thought loops in her mind, relentless and punishing. I yelled at him. He needed me, and I left him.
The world around her was collapsing, blurring into muted colours and muffled sounds. Her vision swam, the shapes of the empty highway and surrounding woods twisting. The nausea recedes slightly, but the crushing weight of guilt crashes over her, harder and heavier than before.
"I want to go home! I want my daddy!"
"You think I don’t want that too?" she had snapped. "You think I don’t miss them every damn day?"
Images of Leo’s tear-streaked face flashed before her eyes. His small frame curled in the corner of the car, clutching his blanket as he flinched under the sharpness of her words.
A low, guttural sob clawed its way out of her throat, raw and unrestrained, as the realisation of her failure crashed down on her.
"This is my fault," she mutters aloud, her voice breaking. "I scared him. I left him here. I—" Her words dissolve into another strangled sob as her gaze falls on the discarded blanket near the car. She snatches it up, clutching it tightly to her chest. The fabric is damp and cold, but it still smells faintly of him, of the faint soap they’d used the last time they found running water.
Had he been scared?
The icy air burned her throat, each inhale a reminder of the cold that was steadily seeping into her bones.
Zara buries her face in the blanket, her tears soaking into the fabric as she rocks back and forth in the snow. "I’m sorry," she whispers hoarsely. "I’m so sorry, Leo."