The Fear Of Losing Someone

Quietus "A finishing stroke; anything that eventually ends or settles." 

You are fifteen years old. You stand in front of your mother's bed, and see her struggling for consciousness. Your little brother quietly stands there with you too.

"Do we call up Papa Pernia?” your brother whispers. 

"He's in Karachi, what can he possibly do?” you reply back.

"Mama needs the hospital. Who do we ask for help?”

You look back at your little brother, thinking how he should have been watching Saturday morning cartoons instead. 

"No one. We'll manage"

You tell your brother to get dressed. You call up a taxi and take your mother to the hospital yourself, feeling the burden of life grow heavier along the way. You rush her into the emergency.  

The doctors assure you that everything will be fine; you've been a brave girl getting your mother till here by yourself but now they'll take over from here so you don’t need to worry.

You look towards your brother and force a smile. "See? She’ ll be alright now. I told you we would manage."

He stares at you quietly for a while. "Will you be alright?" He asks.

I don’t think I ever will bro. I see our mother suffer everyday but I can’t help her. So instead I sit around all day thinking about the future. And let me tell you the more I think about it, the more I get scared because I don’t find our mother in it. I wish time would stop. I don’t like change little brother, what if it's not for the best? I’m growing quieter each day, I barely talk to people. Maybe if I stay quiet enough, I’ll turn invisible and life would stop noticing me. Maybe it would stop noticing our mother too then. If I stay quiet long enough, I think everything will be just fine.

"Pernia? Where you lost?" 

You hold your brother's small hand, pressing it gently. 

"Everything will be just fine. Don’t worry."