I Was Born For Their Mistakes, Not For Love Chapter 09
A police cruiser pulled up outside the cemetery gates.
Two officers stepped out and headed straight toward the crowd.
The lead officer stopped in front of Mom.
“Margaret Vance, you are under arrest on suspicion of aggravated assault and child abuse. You
need to come with us.”
Mom didn’t resist.
One of the officers moved behind her and pulled her hands back.
The sharp click of handcuffs cut through the silence.
Dad never looked at her. He simply turned away and lit another cigarette.
Then Mom was led off.
After a few steps, she suddenly stopped.
She turned back toward the freshly built gravestone. Toward the small photograph embedded in the
marble.
The little girl in the picture wore a white T-shirt and a ponytail, smiling brightly at the camera.
Mom stared at it for a long time.
Then she turned away and followed the officers toward the cruiser.
She walked slowly, each step heavy, as if measuring out the last scraps of freedom left in her life.
The car door shut.
The engine started.
And the police cruiser slowly disappeared beyond the cemetery gates.
The trial took place three months later.
The court found Mom guilty of child abuse and aggravated assault. The circumstances were severe, the consequences irreversible. She was sentenced to fifteen years in prison.
When the judge delivered the sentence, Mom stood quietly at the defense table.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t argue.
When her lawyer asked if she wanted to appeal, she simply shook her head.
“No.”
Later, Caleb and Maya went to visit her.
The prison visitation room was divided by a thick glass wall. Caleb and Maya sat on one side. Mom sat alone on the other.
She had lost a dangerous amount of weight.
Her hair had been cut short, and the standard prison uniform hung loosely off her thin frame.
She looked exhausted.
Old.
Like someone who had already lived through the end of her life.
No one spoke first.
The silence stretched on for what felt like forever before Mom finally broke it.
“Did you visit Hazel’s grave?”
Caleb nodded. “Yeah.”
“Was there grass growing yet?”
“There was.”
Mom lowered her eyes and gave a faint nod.
Then silence swallowed the room again.
Right before visitation ended, Mom suddenly said quietly, “I’m doing fine in here. Don’t come back anymore.”
Caleb looked at her without speaking.
Maya burst into tears.
Mom hung up the phone receiver, stood, and followed the correctional officer out of the room.
She never looked back.
That was the last time Caleb and Maya ever visited her.
When they got home later that night, the front door was locked.
Caleb knocked for a long time, but nobody answered.
Eventually, he climbed in through a window.
That was when he found Dad lying on the bed.
Still.
Silent.
As if he were only asleep.
Several empty pill bottles sat on the nightstand beside him.
Next to them was a sheet of paper with a single line written across it:
[Hazel, Daddy’s coming to see you. Can you forgive me?]
Maya’s scream startled the neighbors.
An ambulance arrived soon after.
But it was already too late.
Dad was dead.
In such a short time, the entire family had fallen apart beyond repair.
But none of it had anything to do with me anymore.
Life was long.
And people were cruelly absurd.
