It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, Marcus and I were lounging on the couch, controllers in our hands, locked in an intense round of Call of Duty. The sound of gunfire and victory cheers filled the room as we trash-talked each other, laughing at our terrible aim. The air was light, carefree.
A sudden knock on the door shattered the peace. It was loud and firm.
"I'll get it," I said, setting the controller aside.
As I opened the door, my breath hitched. A police officer stood there, his expression unreadable. His hat was clutched in his hands, and the weight of his presence filled the doorway.
"Are you Liam?" he asked gently.
I nodded, my voice caught in my throat. Marcus appeared behind me, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
Can I come in ?
I nodded and guided the police officer to the living room.
Am Officer Luke. Do you know Ms Lillian Adams.
Yes, she's my mom did something happen?
"I'm sorry to inform you..." the officer began, his voice heavy with sympathy. "Your mother was involved in a car accident earlier today. Despite the paramedics' efforts, she..." His voice faltered for a moment before continuing, "She didn't survive."
The words hit me like a physical blow. The world tilted, and the officer's voice became a distant hum.
"No... no, you must have the wrong person," I stammered, shaking my head violently. "My mom's at work. She's...she's fine!"
"Liam..."Marcus whispered, his hand resting gently on my shoulder.
"No!" I screamed, stepping back as the tears started to flow uncontrollably. "This can't be happening! She's all I have!"
Officer Luke, are you sure you have the right person? Are you sure it's Liam's mother?" Marcus asked.
"We recovered some of her belongings at the crime scene," Officer Luke said quietly.
"We also have her body, and we need you to come to the station to identify her," Officer Luke continued.
The officer's face was etched with sorrow. "I'm truly sorry for your loss.
If you need support or have any questions, we're here to help."
I didn't respond. My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor, sobs wracking my body.Marcus knelt beside me, wrapping his arms around me tightly.
"It's okay, Liam," he murmured, though his voice cracked with his own emotions. "I'm here. You're not alone."
But I felt alone. Completely and utterly alone. My mother...my anchor, my protector was gone. And with her, it felt like a part of me had been ripped away.
Sleep had become a foreign concept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her my mom's warm smile, her reassuring voice, her gentle touch. But now, it was all a memory, one that felt like it was slipping further away with every passing second.
Marcus's mom, ever so kind and patient, had invited me to stay with them. Her house had become my refuge, but even within its comforting walls, I felt adrift.
I wanted to go back home. I was sure this was all a dream my mom was waiting for me there. She'd be in the kitchen, singing and dancing while preparing dinner, just like always.
The next morning, My eyes were red, and dark circles hung under them. Marcus's mom came into the room, telling me I should get ready so we could go to the station and see if it was really my mom. Her voice was sympathetic, as if trying to reassure me that maybe the police were wrong but even she didn't fully believe it herself.
Upon arrival, we were taken to a private area where my mother's body was laid out. The police officer explained the process beforehand, giving me a moment to prepare. I was asked to identify her, and they gave me some time alone.
I couldn't believe my eyes. My very own mom lay there on the table, unmoving. The reality of it hit me all at once, but I refused to accept it. I ran out of the police station, desperate to escape the truth. My mom was gone. She had left me, all alone.
The funeral had come and gone, a blur of black clothing, whispered condolences, and the suffocating weight of loss. The days that followed were no better. I barely moved from my bed, tears streaming endlessly down my cheeks. The reality of my mother's absence felt too cruel, too unreal.
Social workers began visiting the house regularly, their presence a grim reminder of my situation. I was 16, with no living relatives no one but Marcus and his family.
Marcus's parents were incredible. His mother, Mrs.Smith, was a pillar of strength. When the nightmares came, and I woke up gasping for air, she was always there. She'd sit by my side, holding my hand, her soothing voice like a balm on my fractured soul.
"Sweetheart, you're not alone," she'd say, brushing my hair back as I sobbed into her shoulder.
Marcus, too, never left my side. he stayed with me in silence, his presence a quiet but powerful comfort. Mrs Smith didn't try to force me to talk, didn't ask me to explain the depth of my grief. She simply was there, and that was enough.
I sat on the edge of the couch in Marcus's living room, my knees pulled to my chest. The sound of Marcus and his mom chatting in the kitchen drifted toward me, but it felt distant, like I was in a bubble of silence. I'd been staying here for weeks now, but I still couldn't shake the hollow feeling in my chest.
The door creaked open, and Marcus's mom stepped inside. Her gentle smile broke through my haze, but her eyes held something deeper concern, maybe even hesitation. She carried two mugs of tea, placing one on the table in front of me.
"Liam, can I sit with you?" she asked, her voice as soft as the blanket she'd draped over my shoulders the night before.
I nodded, shifting slightly to make room for her on the couch. She sat down, her warmth filling the space between us. For a moment, she didn't say anything, just sipped her tea and watched the rain streak down the window.
"Liam," she began, setting her mug down and turning to face me. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something important."
My stomach twisted. Important things always came with bad news. I clutched the blanket tighter.
"You've been through so much," she continued, her voice steady but kind. "Losing your mom, being uprooted from everything you knew... I can't imagine how hard that's been for you."
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening.
"I know no one can ever replace your mom," she said, reaching out to take my hand gently. "But Marcus and I... we care about you so much. You've become a part of our family."
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them away.
"I've spoken to the social workers," she said carefully, watching my reaction. "And I've decided to start the process to adopt you. But only if you're okay with it."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and hopeful. I stared at her, my mind racing. Adopt me? The idea felt foreign, almost unreal.
"I..." My voice cracked, and I shook my head. "I don't know if I can do this."
She squeezed my hand, her grip firm but reassuring. "I'm not asking you to make a decision right now, sweetheart. This is your choice. I just want you to know that we're here for you. No pressure, no rush."
Marcus spoked hi head into the room then, his face lit up with a grin. "Mom, you're making him cry!" he teased, but his eyes softened when he saw my expression. he walked over and sat on my other side, looping his arm around my shoulders.
"Hey," he said softly. "You know we love you, right? I mean, you're practically my brother already. This just makes it official."
I let out a shaky laugh, tears spilling over despite my best efforts. I didn't know what to say or how to feel, but for the first time in weeks, a tiny flicker of warmth broke through the cold.
"I'll think about it," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"That's all I ask,"Marcus's mom said with a gentle smile.
We sat there in silence, the rain pattering against the windows, the warmth of their presence wrapping around me like the blanket I still clutched. For the first time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as alone as I thought.