TO KILL IS TO SERVE

SPECIAL CHAPTER: Later is Longer than Forever

[Author's note: You can SKIP this part if you are not interested in short stories. But if you won't, I hope you enjoy reading!

NOTE: This story has NOTHING TO DO with the original plot. This is a special chapter.]

My mom once said when I was two that she will love me forever. I believed her for she told me that I can trust her when I turned to three.

From since then, I remembered my everyday, and everything that happened everyday, and what everyone's doing everyday, and everything, vividly. And yet I still cannot define what love is.

No day would pass without me asking my mother to play with me, from my fifth to my fifteenth year of age—but no day was answered as well. She is too busy, always too busy, and she told me that if she were to stop being busy, we will starve to death. I do not know what does death means before then, but I understand now.

"Later, honey, okay? Mommy's busy now, so I will play with you later." 

I have already memorized her plain answer whenever I tug the ends of her skirts before she leaves the house every morning, with a cup of coffee on her right hand and cellphone on her left.

No day would pass without me asking her what did she cook for our dinner, but no more meal was made by her after my seventh birthday. She would just order a delivery from a random restaurant and let me eat them alone for she's busy in her room.

"I will cook a bit later, after all these work, baby." 

She will always, always say whenever I welcome her with question of what she will prepare for our dinner the moment she got home from work. But since she is busy, she cannot cook anymore.

I know I have exceptional memory—but I cannot seem to remember the taste of my mother's cooking.

On all the meetings that my school has held for the past ten years, none of them had a picture of my mom participating. She never had time. She never looked for time. She never made time.

"Later I will try to clear my schedule for the meeting next month, okay? I am really sorry."

That's the line that she's been repeating for ten years straight, whenever I will inform her that she missed an important school meeting, again. There were even times when my teachers thought I was an orphan, for my mom can't tell them she's busy, even through a simple phone call. I have to explain myself and my situation into a laughable extent.

They said that when you were about to die, you will remember important things that has happened in your life. However, none of what flashed in my mind just now were important... but my sharp memory chose to remember them all. Hyperthymesia has been my curse ever since—for remembering those times my mother said the word 'later' are my most painful memories. Now I am starting to think, maybe later is longer than forever?

She held my shattered body that got hit by a mad truck with her frail, always busy hands, and cried helplessly. "I am sorry, son. Please, please stay awake." She caressed my face, wiping the blood that was dripping from my head. I have finally heard her saying anything other than her 'later's. "Mommy's gonna play with you. Mommy's gonna cook for you your dinner. Mommy's gonna attend all the school meetings and meet all your friends. Please, just don't leave me." She uttered as she hollers like a lost wolf.

Ah, I know she remembers them as well. I got this syndrome from her. Genetics is very cool, indeed.

Blood came rushing out of my mouth as I cough. My limbs are numb, and my sight is blurry. I have felt and remembered everything all my life, aside from death and love, but now I am suddenly and unexpectedly feeling both. 

"Baby, stay breathing for me, okay?" My mother whispered once again, still hugging me. It's been a long time since she last let me feel her warm embrace.

I collected all my strength and smiled as I try to open my mouth to say something. Of course I want to stay with her. Of course I want to play with her, eat her cooking, introduce her to my peers, and attend meetings with her. Of course I want to but I think I can't for now.

I gently opened my mouth and inhaled, "I will, mom, later." I uttered and coughed blood again, before both my eyes were shut closed against my will. I hope this 'later' of mine weren't longer than forever, just like hers.

And genetics is very cool, indeed, mom.