Dear Mum

Dear Mum,

You'll never guess where I'm writing from.

I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me. I admit I was wrong, I just wish you were here to hear me say it.

It was an accident, something I truly regret. Do you forgive me? I know I should have let you know before it happened, but I do love you. Do you still love me?

Do you remember when I was six years old? It was scorching hot outside and you were gardening. You enjoyed gardening. You said you loved watching the Purple Dendrobium Orchid Flowers grow; they were your second favourite. But most of all you said that you loved watching me grow; and that one day I too would grow to be tall and beautiful.

I was playing with my water gun. You were sweating from the heat and looked tired. I thought it would be funny if I sprayed a bit of water on you as a practical joke. With little thought my little fingers pulled against the plastic trigger.

I still remember the look on your face. Your icy blue green eyes were suddenly filled with a rage I had never seen before. I was frozen with terror. My heart skipped a beat, butterflies flooded my stomach, and as my mouth fell open I let out a gasp.

Back then my world was tiny. Having to go to 'the corner' was one of the harshest punishments imaginable. There I would think about what I did wrong, but here in this cold and clammy room it aches to think. At least there I was safe, safe from the rest of world. This Earth really is a scary place.

I wish I could go back, and remain six years old forever.

I turned to run inside, fearful of hearing you shout at me; possibly even smack me. They used to hurt, but not as much as the pain I experience writing this letter to you.

I was hit with a tidal wave of puzzlement when a surge of water splattered across the back of my dress. 'Had I run into a puddle?' I thought.

You wet me with the hose as an act of revenge and was laughing hysterically. I had never seen you so overjoyed. I still remember that water fight as if it was only yesterday.

Now at twenty years of age, I wish I had stuck to just water guns. The assembly of fluorescent coloured fragments brimful with water are harmless, they don't cost lives. Metal tubing and bullets are deadly, of course, I would know.

I wasn't the greatest daughter in the world. Now I realise I didn't deserve a mother like you. I rebelled against you, I'm sorry. I was profoundly selfish. Why it takes something like this for me to change I don't know.

I guess after dad had gone, I turned to the wrong friends for comfort. The sort of 'friends' who convinced me into believing partying, crime, getting high and smoking would help keep my mind away from my problems - instead they only created more.

Of course, I wasn't always like that. You and I used to be close; we would talk about everything till the cows came home. I miss those moments. I would bring home good grades; I wanted to be a doctor, and you believed in me.

A few weeks ago we were arguing. I arrived home at six in the morning with a massive hangover. I stumbled through the door - hair messed, eyes red and on the brink of conciousness; you were sitting down in the living room reading a magazine with the phone close at hand. Before I had time to lie and blurt out a new lame explanation to excuse me for coming home so late, you slammed the magazine down, and I could see tears forming in your eyes.

You started yelling at me. You said that you didn't know the person who I had become; come to think of it, till now, neither do I. You told me I was throwing my life away, that I was better than this, that it wasn't too late to start fresh. Apparently it was best if we moved to another state, new house, new school, new everything.

'But what about me?'. Everything was about me. I was where I belonged, or so I thought.

We argued for ages. For the first time you hit me across the face. I was angry. I don't know what I was thinking, I didn't do it. It was the alcohol, or maybe the drugs.

I retrieved the gun from my pocket and shot you. Everything else from there is a blur. I wanted to wake up and realise it was all a dream.

'Guilty' said the judge in a cold tone. Now here I am in gaol writing you this letter. Maybe this is where I belong.

A creative writing task I did last year. Hope you enjoyed.