The Evils of Farmville.
AN: This is just a drabble I started in English class and thought I would expand it and post it.
**Really bad, I mean really BAD mother ahead**
I sit here in my orange jump suit on cell block C and all you can do is question me. Why I did what I did? I'm not anyone to say. Don't you see the eight digit number stamped in black across my left breast? This is what my identity has been reduced to, an arbitrary logarithm to signify my existence in this world.
A year ago I would have told you I had everything a woman could want, but now you sit and ask me to explain myself. There was no choice. How I could let my son die, you ask as if I would know the answers to such questions. Why because I am his mother, I should know everything?
He was such a miracle to me when he was first born. He delighted in shiny lights and the fascinating blur of his hand as he pounded the floor. My heart ached for him when he would cry for my swollen breasts, but I did as the books said, and fed him every four hours. He calmed as he grew adjust to to the routine, and eventually he never cried at all.
I began a Facebook account to share my new found joy with my friends and family. I even friended my son's father although he never accepted the request. I would only log on occasionally, check in with friends post sweet nothings about my little baby, but I always logged off to give Logan his dinner, wash his face and put him to bed with a song. I loved him as best as I could.
One day I was introduced to a new friend through a new game called Farmville. I accepted and soon had a Facebook boyfriend. Edward. His posts were witty and insightful and he always commented and liked what I posted. Logan's dinner time became later. I no longer had time to sing him to sleep. He would pull at my shirt and began crying out from his crib at night. If I waited he would stop.
You can't expect me to be able to know what was happening, but all you ask is how I let it happen. Farmville takes a lot of time. There are virtual crops to plant and virtual livestock to tend. You have to coordinate with other players to ensure your success. I meant to get to the store and buy groceries for Logan's dinner, but it got late. It was the first time he went to bed without dinner, but he didn't cry.
I planted a virtual field of yellow and red roses in my Farmville garden the night the police came to the house. I carefully planted the red roses into the shape of a heart and used the yellow roses to spell out 'I love Edward' in the center. It took all my Farmville points. Edward didn't return my sentiment, but I knew he felt the same way. Logan didn't cry at all that night. He fell asleep slumped on his bedroom floor. He was such a good boy for mommy.
I'm not exactly sure of the answer myself. I'm by nature a nurturer; you could see that if I was allowed to show you my Facebook profile. I have over six hundred friends and the most successful farm on Farmville, with pigs, chickens and rows and rows of corn.
The police said it had been at least a week when they took my angel. They came to the door when a neighbor complained of the smell coming from my home.
You can call me crazy, most people do. Does your phone have internet access? If I could just see it for a moment, just log on for a second. It's been so long since I've been on Facebook. If I could just show it to you, you would understand. Please.
AN: please review.