Inner Flame - Original Writing

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Inner Flame - Original Writing

I wish it would just stop. Stop crying. Its large eyes are constantly

following me, wherever I go, lying in its cot, bawling away. I'm too

frightened. I can't pick it up. My hands keep quivering every time I

go near him. What if something terrible happens? It feels as though

history is repeating itself. The same year old baby, the same

behaviour, and the same day of the week…

Wednesday night, was always the best night of the week for me. It was

babysitting night! It loved it, especially in the summer, as I could

take them out to play. I had been given the responsibility of looking

after young kids and babies, whereas others weren't trusted. I felt so

grown up! Their soft skin, little scampering feet, and innocent eyes

enchanted me; it was just like watching little angels. The baby that I

regularly watched was called Jacob. He was the sweetest thing! His

chubby little arms and legs constantly reminded me of the segments of

a caterpillar. It was a big treat to have this sense of trust from

others. I never forgot to feed the baby and always soothed him off to

sleep. I was always there for him.

I just can't find the courage in myself to look after my son, after

what happened. The fear is tearing me apart. Even the paintings on the

wall look as though they are umpiring my every move, looking at what a

bad mother I have become. This is all because of that one night.

Babysitting.

The ritual was always the same. The sun would set, like a half eaten

pizza, bringing out the orangey pink colours. After school, I would

skip to Jacobs's house, energized and ready to baby-sit. I would go

into their fire lit room, which was full of warm glowing colours. The

parents left and I was left alone. We were both having a great time,

messing about with all of his toys, enjoying our food together and

even when I was putting him to sleep.

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