"My mistake...it was all my mistake...I did it. I destroyed everything. With one single mistake," her mom was mumbling to herself. George felt tearing up.

All those signs, and she had failed to recognize. Yet again.

Her mom looked withered, her face cast by a dark shadow. The tiredness reflected in her eyes was possibly due to the stress and anguish she had kept suppressed inside.

Guilt and shame rose in waves within her. Her mom was wearing out day by day, and she had not even picked up on it.

What kind of a daughter was she?

She slowly lifted her hands to gently cradle her mom's face.

"Mom? Mom, hey, everything's okay. Listen to me, mom. I-"

"NO! No!," her mom suddenly lifted her head, shoving George's hand away in a swift motion. Her eyes were lit up, pain and fury swirling in them.

"Everything's okay? No! Can't you see, George? Nothing's Okay. It never was. It never will. I made it that way. I destroyed our life. One mistake and I...," a whimper escaped her, which soon turned into broken sobs. "No, Georgie. Nothing's ever going to be okay," she ended with a faint whisper, tears streaming from her face.

George watched with agony as her mom physically tried to shrink into herself, as if distancing herself from her daughter. The series of sobs that wrecked her body cut through her soul as harshly as a dagger.

She felt helpless. She did not know how to console her mom, how to comfort her. Anything that she could say would be nothing but mere words, and George knew that what her mom needed right then were not any hollow words.

So she sidled closer to her mom, and cocooned her in a warm embrace. She let her head rest over that of her mom's. Her mom was still uttering incoherent ramblings that George knew, without hearing, were self-reproaches. She slowly swayed them together, furiously blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, all the while crooning in a soft voice a lullaby that her mom used to sing when George was younger and would not sleep on the dark days.

"Sleep. Let your eyes close.

Let it not wander into the dreamless abyss.

Let it not go to the realms of the past.

Let it not be haunted with the visions of terror.

Close your eyes. Let the darkness seep in.

For I will be here. For you. Forever.

To hold onto,

When you feel alone;

To let your tears out,

When the going gets tough.

To love,

When you feel alone, unloved.

I will be here. Forever. For you.

So go to sleep, with your eyes closed.

For you have my word, I will keep you safe."

By the time she finished, George was aware that the sobs had reduced into sniffles. She knew then that she had managed to catch and divert her mom's attention, and was relieved. Her mom now lay in her arms, with her trembling arms wrapped around George's midriff. As she reached the last line of the lullaby, George felt her mom's free hand clutching her tightly.

"You still remember that?," her mom asked her shortly, softly, without lifting her head.

George smiled at the surprise in her question.

"Of course I do, mom. It was my ray of light, remember?"

Her mom let out a small laugh at that. Her voice had a quiver to it when she spoke again.

"You used to curl up on the bed after, you know...," she stopped, unable to continue further.

"I know," George answered, her mind marred with images of the past.

The thumps of the hand coming down fast, her screeches that ricocheted across the hall, the angry words that spewed out of dad...

She shook her head. Now was not the time to dwell on those memories.

Her mom slowly shifted from her position and sat straight. Tear streaks marked her face, and her eyes were red and swollen. She clasped her hands in her own.

"It was painful to hear your muffled sobs. More so, when there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't enter your room - your dad didn't allow me," she began in a trembling voice.

"At first, he told me that it was the way children should be disciplined. He said it was for your own good. She will learn not to be dependent on others for everything, he had said. And I believed him," she said with a dry chuckle, "I believed him and thought he was right."

Here her mom stopped because the sobs had choked her voice. George desperately wanted to stop her mom from exerting herself, but her mom did not give her a chance.

"He said that his father had used the same method, and he claimed it had worked so well for him. I should have known then at least that it was wrong. But I LET him. I LET HIM TORTURE MY CHILD AND-"

"Shh...mom, mom. It's okay, I am fine, you are fine. Calm down," George tightened her hold on her mom's hand. Her mom was getting feverish and her eyes were turning wild, blazing with the memories that had been locked up for so long. The alcohol had fully taken control of her senses.

Her mother needed to rest now, or else the darkness in her mind would spread further.

She realised that her mom was slowly losing consciousness. The incoherent words that came out of her mouth were in a jumbled order. She supported her mom with a hand across her shoulder, and another on her right arm, and lifted her up with her. Her mom stood up and trembled, unable to stand straight. George guided her to the bed, and tucked her in. She removed the photo from her mom's tight hold, and placed it on the bedside table. Then she pulled the blankets up and watched as her mom writhed under them for a few minutes, her face distorted as if she was struggling to escape something. Slowly, very slowly, the movements calmed down, and she fell asleep.

George let out a deep sigh, and bent down to pick up the bottle. The cap of the bottle lay some distance away, as if it had been removed and thrown there carelessly. The smell that wafted out of it was so suffocating that she had to pinch her nose shut as she took the bottle and its cap and dropped them both in the trashcan in the room. She decided she would throw it out the next day.

Her mom needed her right then.

She slowly made her way to the bed and climbed up next to her mom. She sat with her head resting on the headboard, and her legs stretched out - her face turned towards her mom. She then slowly stroked her mom's hair.

Oh, how she wished she were more capable of expressing love! Her dad was never an example of it, and even though her mom loved her, she could not fully express it the way she wanted, out of fear of her dad. Her grandparents knew how to make someone feel loved, but then it has been years since she had met them. She did not even know how they were, anymore.

If only she knew how to love freely, without the bonds restricting it! Perhaps then, her mom would not have had to depend on liquor for solace for she would have a daughter with whom she could share her grief.

George felt tears of anger clouding her vision. It was all her fault. Yet, it was her mom who still took the hits.

If wishes did come true, she wished she could turn into a daughter worthy of her mother.