Jen & Timmy.pdf

Jen stumbled back, her hand clamped over her mouth in horror. She stared at the tiny, crushed body of her son Timmy, lying in a pool of blood between her wooden clogs on the hardwood floor. "Oh my god," she whispered. "What have I done?"

It had all happened so fast. Timmy had been at his new favorite hobby lately - the latest shrinking fad to hit the internet. Using some kind of secret serum, he could miniaturize himself down to only a few inches tall for a few hours at a time. Jen had told him he wasn't allowed to shrink around the house, but the stubborn 15-year-old did it anyway.

She had been in the kitchen, humming as she prepared lunch, when she felt a sudden pain under her foot. "Ow! What the-"

Jen looked down to see Timmy flailing in agony, blood pooling around him, his tiny legs crushed. She screamed and jumped back, but it was too late. Her sheer weight and the hard wooden soles had instantly pulverized his fragile miniature body.

Jen sank to her knees, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "Timmy! Oh god, baby, I'm so sorry!" She knew she shouldn't touch him, but she reached out a trembling hand, gently brushing the matted hair from his face.

Timmy's glazed eyes flickered open. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Jen leaned closer, her heart hammering. "I'm here," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

With a final rattling breath, Timmy went still. Jen clutched him to her chest and sobbed, rocking back and forth. The guilt crashed over her in waves. This was all her fault. She should have been more careful, watched where she was stepping. Now her only child was dead and she would have to live with this for the rest of her life.

Jen knew she should call the police, but her mind recoiled at the thought of trying to explain this. "Officer, I accidentally crushed my shrunken son to death with my wooden shoes." They'd think she was insane. And what would happen to her? Would she go to prison for murder?

In that moment, Jen made a decision. She couldn't bear to have anyone know her terrible secret. Carefully, she carried Timmy's remains to her sewing room. With shaking hands, she wrapped his tiny body in a scrap of fabric and knotted it. Then she took the bundle outside to the small rose garden behind their house.

Holding back sobs, Jen began to dig in the soft earth. When she had a small hole, she placed Timmy inside and covered him with dirt, patting it down gently. A fresh wave of grief crashed over her and she curled up beside the grave, numb with shock and guilt.

Jen knew she would never be able to tell anyone the truth of what happened that day. To the rest of the world, Timmy would be a runaway or missing person. But she would always carry the weight of his death in her heart.

From that day forward, Jen moved through life in a daze, her soul crushed by the secret she carried. No matter what she did to try to move on, she couldn't escape the vision of Timmy's broken body or the blood on her clogs. She had become a monster, a mother who had destroyed her own child.

In the end, perhaps Timmy's death was meant to be. It had spared him the dark path his shrinking obsession was leading him down. And it had spared the world from whatever evil he might have wrought. Still, the knowledge brought Jen no peace or comfort. She was damned to carry this burden forever.

Timmy would stay forever young and innocent in her memory, frozen in the moment before their world shattered. And though she could never forgive herself, Jen vowed to honor his memory by living the rest of her life with kindness, compassion, and penance for a sin that would haunt her until the end of her days.