That’s not true – I wouldn’t strangle him. What I would do is drag him naked behind a four-stroke, 1800cc grunty motorbike by a Columbian necktie. Think that’s a bit mean and over the top? I would sing Monty Python’s Always Look on the Bright Side of Life while riding down the road. And that would only be the beginning of what would be a long period of suffering...including but not limited to potato peelers and electric sanders.

 

As you will have read in my previous post, on 17 October 2015 while Pierce was under his car, a meth head – I refer to as Mr F.

A Mother’s Nightmare

 

A cool iced drink,

a warm spring day.

Smash, metal tearing, scraping,

thud...loud silence.

 

Name bellowed, ice explodes through veins,

pools in the heart.

Lungs desperate for air,

drums beat a steady rhythm in my ears.

 

I close my eyes,

catapult to that precise, catastrophic moment.

Remember the sounds of nightmares,

horror seeped in fear.

 

The picture and noises,

so true, so vivid.

Hieroglyphs forever engraved

on my memory.

 

“Stay still, love.”

“Am I going to die? I’m dying, aren’t I, Mum?