Only a mother could love.
Rufus groaned. His room had been without light for some time now, and he was certain that his mother would be coming back soon, if only he could know when. Every night, at seven on the dot, it was story time. Rufus was not like other children, he liked horror stories, frightening tales that even set his mothers teeth on edge from time to time. She had tried reading him more appropriate stories, but then he would just spit at her, or cry and kick at the book, until it was put away.
Rufus was severely brain damaged, and as such was unable to talk, or do practically anything for himself. What sounds he could make were little more than grunts and clicks, nothing more, and such a disadvantage was plain to see in his eyes. He was only crippled by this damage in terms of physical ability, his mind was still his own, yet it was not for anyone to know this, for he had no way of knowing anything else, for he had been born this way.
A creak from the door signified that mother had returned. Rufus giggled with joy, for now more of the story would unfold, and maybe someone would die, that was the bit he liked best, when the bad things happened, but then doesn't everyone, what is the point of such a tale without something which evokes horror, or something similar?
"Shall I read this one tonight Rufus?" His mother asked. She was only 28, and for the past six years had bought Rufus up as best she could. As a relatively young mother, she had found that having a son who was so disabled a hard knock. She had even contemplated suicide at one point, for her husband too was greatly affected, she did however console herself with the fact that he was their son and deserved just the same love and attention as any child they would have otherwise been blessed with.
Blessing, however, can become curses, and life took a tragic turn for her when Billy, her husband, left. The split caused her to fall into a depression that lasted for almost two years, and during this time, she had found that her world slowly shrunk, until it was only she and Rufus.
Friends came frequently at first, seeing if there was anything they could do to help, but eventually the help dwindled off as she became lower in both mood and attitude. There was one point where she bit the head off one friend for just holding Rufus while she made a cup of tea.
"So, do you want me to read this one or something else?" She asked again, Rufus had not made any response, and although he couldn't talk, she still made sure that she took notice of any noise that he made, for in a way she knew that there was someone in there, that he was not just a leach of flesh which had ruined her life.
She bit her lip; the thought was enough to sadden anyone, but to think such a thing in front of her child was just too much. Rufus whined and she began.
He was there, standing at the door, listening to the wind blow across the dunes, "the wind", he whispered as he listened and started to smile, "its only the wind". As it blew over the moor the man ran, ran from his fear and his own disgust at what would soon happen to him.