By Shreya Challa, Grade 11 A

The story won 3rd Place in Literati ‘Story Writing’ event held at school.

“Exploring.” Judy thought to herself with a scoff, “Why does everybody expect me to be alright with everything? Why does everybody think that I want to discover everything, because I don't want to discover this-“Judy cut her train of thoughts off with a shudder, not wanting to think about death- her mother’s death, to be precise. She had no intention of discovering what death felt like. Tapping the little bottle against her knee, she reminded herself that she was just being paranoid. Of course, her mother wouldn’t die. Of course, she wouldn’t. Judy would save her. she would.

Judy wrinkled her nose as she peered through the musty window. The bus was hurtling past tall, brown, dirty buildings, only reminding her of why she had left this place, reminding her that the reason she was here at all, the only person she would even contemplate coming back to this sewer could be gone any minute.
Judy huddled behind the dumpster, not daring to chew the burnt bread she had stolen, thankful that her underfed, six-year-old body could fit in this tiny space, for she was sure that somebody had seen her. She cursed herself for being obvious-why on earth had she been so stupid? As if going through the baker’s leftovers hadn’t been risky enough, she could have sworn that a lady had seen her. She’d run as fast as she could, but the lady followed her.
Judy chewed the bread. Maybe she’d go to jail now, maybe she would never see her mother again, not that her mother seemed to care-
Light pierced her eyes. Someone with inhuman strength undoubtedly had pushed the dumpster aside. She blinked in the sudden light; it was the lady who had followed her, except now she looked like an angel. She had wrinkly skin and small eyes, but to Judy, the light around her shone like a halo. Best of all, she was holding a chocolate bar in her hand.
Judy stared at it, her mouth watering. Chocolate was rare nowadays; it had all been depleted. She’d only ever tasted it once, but here- here, this lady was offering it to her. Without a second thought, Judy snatched the bar and ripped the package open.
“What’s your name?” the nice lady asked. Judy, gnawing on the bar, told her name. “Come with me,” the lady beckoned. “I’ll take care of you.”
Judy only hesitated for one second before taking her hand. Since then, she had never looked back. Since then, the lady was her real mother, the one who loved her and took care of her.
Her mother took her to an orphanage and sent her to school. Her mother helped her with her homework and cooked her food. While Judy hated Math, her mother was a Math whiz; Calculus and trigonometry were nothing for her, and she was a natural at French. Sometimes, Judy wondered why her mother had chosen to be an orphanage caretaker when she could have been a rocket scientist or a programmer.
At age eighteen, Judy had gotten a scholarship to a university on the other side of the country, and left, never to come back to the filthy city that was her hometown. She became an archaeologist and travelled everywhere she could, her thirst for discovery and exploration unquenched. Sometimes, she talked to her mother, always ending the calls with, “I love you, mother.” Her mother never said anything back, but that was alright. Judy knew she loved her; she didn’t need to say a word.
That had all crashed down when Judy got a call from her mother’s doctor. “She has a virus, and she will not survive.” The words knocked away Judy’s breath. She had asked about the virus cure, known to work on every viral disease. “After an awkward pause, the doctor said, “It won’t work.” Judy had hung up.
Now, as the bus drove through the city, Judy looked at the bottle in her hand. After the call, she had pulled strings and managed to procure the cure from a friend. If the hospital wouldn’t try it on her mother, she was determined to. With a screech and a jerk, the bus came to a stop in front of a clean white hospital. “General Hospital,” a robotic voice announced.
Judy exited the bus and rushed up the stairs, hoping it was not too late. After stopping at the robot receptionist, she ran to her mother’s room. Two men in suits were standing in front of the door, murmuring about the cancellation of the Mother Program, but Judy didn’t care. She shoved past them, into the stark white room.
Time stopped. There was her mother on the bed, but she didn’t look alive. She was wasted, face thin and pale , arms like sticks, very nearly a skeleton.
Judy’s throat went dry. She stumbled to her mother’s bedside, croaking, “Mother?” Her mother only stared at her. In a flash, Judy pulled out the bottle, tipping its contents into her mother’s mouth.
Nothing happened.
Judy couldn’t breathe. “Mother? Mother, I love you. Please, please don’t do-“Her vision went blurry.
Her mother finally spoke weakly grabbing onto Judy’s hand. “They said I could never love anyone, but if I could … it would be you.” She gave a final, small smile, and her eyes went blank.
All Judy could do was cry, hoping that this was only a bad dream, until suddenly she knew.
She knew why the medicine didn’t work, she knew why her mother knew everything, why her mother worked at the orphanage, why she never said “I love you,” why she was so thin but strong.
As everything came crashing down, Judy crumbled, sobbing by her mother’s body, the limp body of a robot, the one person she loved so much, loved with all her heart, but who could never love her back.