• In the mirror, Wilhelm could see him. The boy that was ugly to look at. The boy that made his Mommy cry and his Daddy leave for long periods. The boy with scaly skin that made him resemble something from the lake. His sunken golden eyes and decaying red lips gave the five year old the look of a deranged animal. He gave the image in front of him a smile and instantly cringed as the smell of rotting flesh poured out of his mouth. His clammy hands covered his face, making the monster in the mirror disappear.

    “There, he’s gone!” the boy giggled, playing peek-a-boo with his disgusting reflection. The moonlight filled the room as the small child gave another giggle as he continued playing with his copy. “There you are!” he squealed, removing his hands quickly. “I see you! Do you see me?” He tilted his head to the side, causing the greasy blond hair to spill into his lap. As usual, his copy didn’t answer back. It just gave him the same stare he gave it. Blank. Cold. Expecting something that can never happen.

    I want a mom that will last forever/ I want a mom to make it all better/ I want a mom that will last forever/ I want a mom who will love me whatever

    It was times like these that made Wilhelm miss his Mommy more than anything. Even though Mommy didn’t seem to want him anymore…He quickly shook his head to get rid of those thoughts in his head. “Mommy loves me! She’s just busy!” He gave a loud whooping cough that echoed loudly in the dark moldy room in the back of the house. Pain erupted in his chest as he pulled his hand away from his mouth.

    There was a dark wet stain on his hand, though he didn’t need the light to know what it was. Blood. He had been coughing it up ever since Daddy left home. Tears filled his eyes as he lay down, gazing at the mirror from across the room. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, giving the reflection a smile. “I can’t play anymore. I don’t feel good.” He rubbed his aching chest and gave a small whimper as he gazed at the wooden ceiling. Yes, it was times like these he wanted Mommy beside him as he collapsed onto the bed as the pained seizures left him breathless and weak. “I want a nice mommy.”

    I want a mom that'll take my hand/ And make me feel like a holiday/ A mom to tuck me in that night/ and chase the monsters away/ I want a mom that'll read me stories/ And sing a lullaby/ And if I have a bad dream to hold me when I cry


    Another spasm of pain filled his small body, causing him to gasp in pain. Thin salty tear trails slid down his grimy face, creating two clean rivers on his face. “It hurts,” he whined, curling up into the fatal position. His hands gripping each other as the pain became worse. Involuntary, his legs jerked, causing the boy to land on the cold unforgiving floor with a loud thump. There was a squeal of pain and a whine as he tried to push himself off the floor. “Why does it hurt so bad?” Tears dripped onto the floorboards below, creating a small puddle. “Mommy,” he whimpered, forcing his arms to drag his body towards the window.


    His small, still chubby hands grasped the windowsill tightly as he pushed himself up on his knees. His tiny arms pressed against the windowpane as he struggled to balance on his paralysed knees. His heated forehead pressed against the cold glass causing him to close his hazy eyes. “Mommy used to do this,” he whispered to himself, remembering the days of having Dante place cool rags on his forehead. “Then she would sing lullabies as she held me and rock me to sleep.”

    Oh,
    I want a mom that will last forever/ I want a mom to make it all better/ I want a mom that will last forever/ I want a mom that will love me whatever, forever


    Wilhelm’s eyes opened and he gave his reflection a soft grin. “Oh, hi,” he whispered, touching the nose of his twin. “I didn’t see you there. I can hardly see you, the fog’s covering you up.” He gave a soft laugh, causing his rancid breath to fog the window once more. The boy’s finger pressed against the fogged glass, drawing small designs on the smooth surface.

    “You look as sick as I am,” Wilhelm replied softly. “Does your mommy ignore you like mine does?” He gave a sad sniff and wiped away the tears. “My mommy does. She doesn’t like me anymore…mommy used to be kind and read me stories while Daddy smoked a pipe behind her. We was happy.” A filthy hand wiped the fog away, leaving a trail of grim and muck in its place. “Uh oh!” His voice was starting to rasp as his vision blurred. “You’re all dirty now. What will your mommy say, ‘Flection?” He clicked his tongue and gazed at the stars that twinkled happily. “You think there are nice mommies in Heaven, ‘Flection?” he asked, swaying on his paralysed knees. “Do you? I bet there are. I bet they’re nicer than my mommy.”

    When she says to me, she will always be there/ To watch and protect me I don't have to be scared/ Oh, and when she says to me I will always love you/ I won't need to worry 'cause I know that it's true



    “Think the nice mommies will read me stories?” the sick boy whispered, now unable to see the moon and the stars with his blurred vision. “You know, ‘Flection, I wanted to play outside with Mommy and Daddy once last time.” He gave a whimper as another wave of pain washed over him. “I wanted to hear Daddy sing to Mommy as they danced in the kitchen…” The world around him whirled as he finally lost his grip on the windowsill. He landed on his back with his legs bent awkwardly behind him as he let out another whooping cough. He gagged and struggled to roll over as his mouth was filled with bile and, undoubtedly, blood.

    By the time he rolled over, he had blood and vomit down his shirt. With a whimper, he curled up again, shaking on the cold, unforgiving floor. “Mommy…” he sniffed, finally unable to contain the sobs that have been held back for so long. “I want my mommy and daddy! I don’t wanna die yet! I want my nice mommy and my happy daddy back!” The sobs rocked the tiny frame hard as the tears kept coming faster and faster. He coughed again, spraying a large amount of blood into his hand. He gazed at his hands with horror, as the blood seemed to drip out of his tiny hands. “Hey, ‘Flection,” he whispered, shaking hard as his hand tried to write words with his blood on the floorboards. “You think God will grant my wish if I wrote it out for him?” As usual, his ‘friend’ said nothing as the boy continued to write in messy handwriting.

    I want a mom when I get lonely/ Who will take the time to play/ A mom who can be a friend and a rainbow when it's gray/ I want a mom to read me stories/ And sing a lullaby /And if I have a bad dream, to hold me when I cry


    Wilhelm’s tiny arms struggled to keep his hand still so that he could write a prayer to God. “I hope that…God will…give me a nice…mommy, ‘Flection,” he whispered, his eyes growing dim. “I want…a mommy, God.” With that said, the poor boy finally breathed his last.

    And that was how Dante found her son. She found him on the ground in a puddle of his own vomit and blood. His eyes open and dim and his small mouth was curved into a gentle smile as his hand pointed to a small prayer. With a tearful gaze, her eyes read the prayer he had written, which simply said:

    Oh,
    I want a mom that will last forever/ I want a mom to make it all better/ I want a mom that will last forever/ I want a mom that will love me whatever, forever/ I want a mom that will last forever/ I want a mom to make it all better/ I want a mom that will last forever/ I want a mom that will love me whatever, forever/ I want a mom/ I want a mom/ I want a mom that'll last forever/ I want a mom that'll last forever/ I want a mom/ I want a mom/I want a mom that'll last forever/ I want a mom/ I want a mom that'll last forever/I want a mom that'll last forever/ I want a mom.../