Tired.

The sharp thwack of the ruler hitting the desk woke Tom with a start.
“Thomas Bathory. Are you sleeping in my lesson?”
Tom rubbed his already bloodshot eyes. They stung like a swarm of angry wasps. He looked up at the blurred silhouette of his teacher.
“Sorry, miss. I’m just… so tired.”
His teacher shook her head. The rest of the class tried their best to hold back their laughter. As much as Tom was in the spotlight, a peal of giggles could cause their stern teacher to turn her attention to them.
“This is the third time this week. I believe I’m going to have to have a phone call with your mother.”
Tom’s eyes widened with alarm. He spoke with a frantic urgency.
“No… please. You… can’t ring my… mum.”
Tom’s mind struggled for an excuse.
“She works nights… and… she’s been sick. I promise I’ll do better.”
His teacher hesitated for a moment. She tried to cast her mind back, but the no matter how far it travelled she could not remember having ever met Tom’s mother.
“No, I’m sorry. But I think a chat with your mother is for the best.”
It was winter. The pavements were icy and the cold was so intense that even the bravest people in the village would not venture outside without several layers of clothing. Winter also brought another thing, one that worried Tom more than the cold.
Nightfall came so much earlier now.
Tom had to rush home from school every day just to make it in before it got dark. He had to make sure he was home, with the doors and windows securely locked, before his mother woke.
Everyone either laughed at him, or got angry when he fell asleep during the day, but he had to stay up all night.
It was the only way.
As Tom entered the door to his home, the phone was ringing. He knew it was his teacher, no one else had called since his parents had divorced, so he simply let it ring until the clanging ended.
Tom checked all the doors and windows, making sure to double bolt each, before he called to his mother.
“Mum, I’m… home. It’s… err… dinnertime.”
He knew it was going to be another long night, but he couldn’t leave her alone. He’d ensured the house was a tightly sealed as a submarine. He wasn’t prepared to take a single risk.
He heard the rattling of chains and the sound of metal scraping against concrete from within the basement. He knew his mother was now waking. He opened the basement door, and began to head into the darkness. He made sure to lock the door behind him.

*****

The sharp thwack of the ruler hitting the desk woke Tom with a start.
“Thomas Bathory. Again?”
Tom rubbed his already bloodshot eyes. They stung like a swarm of angry wasps. He looked up at the blurred silhouette of his teacher. Yet this time he said nothing. He had no excuses left.
“I tried to phone your mother, but she never picks up.”
The harshness of his teacher’s voice softened slightly.
“I’d like to speak to you after class, Thomas. Just the two of us.”
Tom’s breath caught in his throat.
“After class as in… after school?”
The class giggled. His teacher turned to them and their tittering instantly stopped.
“Yes, Thomas.”
Tom shook his head. He tried to hide his panic, but his heartrate had jumped to such a tremendous speed he felt it might explode. His mouth felt dry and the room began to spin.
“Miss, I can’t. I have to be home before nightfall. I-”
“No excuses, Thomas. I will see you after class.”
The remaining hour was agonising. Tom tried to concoct a plan that would allow him to escape. He tried to excuse himself, asking to go to the bathroom, but his teacher refused. She could see through his plan, and she was willing to go to any length to talk to the boy about what was happening at home to cause him to be so tired.
When the classroom was empty, she sat down with Tom. Her strict demeanour melted away and her eyes shone with kindness.
“Thomas… is… everything okay at home?”
Tom knew he had to leave. He knew that he had to end this conversation as quickly as possible and hope he still had enough time.
But this was the first chance he’d had to speak to anyone about what he was going through and, for a moment, he forgot about the urgency to leave.
“My mum… she drinks.”
His teacher placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
“But it’s not like you think. It’s when she doesn’t drink that she changes. She sleeps through the day and wakes up at night. She’s so thirsty that if she doesn’t drink right away, she just becomes… angry. So, I have to be home before she wakes. I have to be there so I can let her drink.”
His teacher sighed a heavy breath. The boy was only twelve, and she knew sharing her personal life wasn’t professional, but the boy needed to know he wasn’t alone.
“Thomas, I understand your pain. My father was an alcoholic. I had to struggle with his mood swings for my entire childhood, and often it was when he didn’t drink that he-”
“No, miss. She’s not an alcoholic.”
His teacher nodded solemnly.
“I know it can be difficult to admit, Thomas. Acceptance is the first step to recovery, and even loved ones have to-”
Tom banged his fists on the table, startling his teacher. Tears had filled Tom’s eyes and his voice wavered with each word he spoke.
“No. You’re not listening to me. I have to be there so she can drink…”
He looked his teacher directly in the eyes, and she saw a boy who had lived an ordeal way beyond his years.
“…me.”
His teacher furrowed her brow.
“She drinks you?” Without consciously doing so she released a short chuckle, immediately catching it and holding it back. The entire thing sounded ridiculous, but she wanted to maintain a caring stance towards him. “Thomas, I’m not entirely sure what you mean?”
Tom, with slow and hesitant motions, began to roll up his sleeves.
Littered sporadically up his arms were a series of bite marks.
His teacher gasped.
“My mum, she used to work a normal job throughout the day. That was before my dad left. One wage wasn’t enough, so she had to take on a second job. She worked as a taxi driver down in the city. I spent a lot of time alone, but I didn’t mind. I knew she was just trying to make sure we got by. One night she came home crying. She told me a passenger had tried to hurt her. She didn’t give me details, but I thought I knew what she meant. But then she showed me the bite mark on her neck. She promised she would go to the doctor’s as soon as she could, but within a single day the change started to happen. That was three months ago. After that, everything changed. I had to watch my mum turn from a woman whose only goal in life was to make sure her son had a roof over his head and food on his table, into a monster driven only by its thirst for blood. If she doesn’t… drink… then the evil takes over. It becomes uncontrollable. I’m not sure why her bites haven’t changed me… maybe it’s because we’re related. But that’s why I’m so tired. I have to make sure she doesn’t manage to get anywhere near other people, so I watch her every night. Please, miss. I need to get home. If my mother gets out, she’ll-”
“Thomas, wait right there. I’m going to phone the police and we’re going to get you somewhere safe.”
His teacher didn’t believe what the boy had said exactly, but she believed the bite marks on his arm were real. She assumed the mother had suffered some sort of mental breakdown, a combination of stress from overwork and the divorce.
Tom sat silently with his head buried in his hands as his teacher left the room. He heard the door open, and then close. Immediately he rose from his seat, opened the window of the classroom, and dropped out onto the school field. He sprinted across the carpark and off the school premises as fast as he could.
The sun had already set and he struggled to keep even a flicker of hope within his heart.
Though his muscles screamed in agony and he tasted blood at the back of his throat, he never slowed down once the entire journey home.
He stood outside his home, and looked at the front door.
It had been smashed open from the inside. The wooden door was now hanging off its hinges.
He was too late.
His mother was free.