Jo Swash wasn't an ordinary eight-year-old boy.

The few aspects that he had in common with the average child were mostly minor and quite subtle, as if it were more like a faint whisper in the wind. That was indeed a fact, not just an opinion that had been lodged into the minds of the ones that had known him; he wasn't like any other boy.

But there was one thing that he had in common, with the undistinguished child, that had just happened to stand out like a star that had just lived it's last and final moment in the night sky.

It was the fact that, like every other boy his age, he believed he was immortal.

It was undeniable, that he had the luck of the devil, but no-one was able to comprehend the fact that his luck was soon to reach its deadline; it was inevitable.

His death struck his loved ones by surprise; it was like a bolt out of the blue on a clear day. He truly was beloved.

They would've thought he knew better than that, but in this case it was explainable.

Since it wasn't just any random car that he just happened to stumble into; it was his mother who happened to be the driver of the orange SUV, which brought Jo's life to an early conclusion.

There were several short-term causes for his death, but the one that had the most involvement to his death would also explain what he was even doing on the road in the first place. It was that the dog, Rusty, had escaped and gotten loose.

He was unable to yell for his dad to help because by the time he could have successfully called his dad from the back garden, the dog would've been long gone and his mother was out. He took the task into his own hands and held it thoroughly in place.

He followed the dog as it ran through the open front door, which his dad had instructed him to leave open for his mother to return.

From what was heard, there was a moment's hesitation before he pursued the dog across the road; even though he knew not to do so. He knew it wasn't the correct thing to do.

Jo hadn't had great peripheral vision; he never did, so he was incapable of noticing the orange SUV, rounding the corner, until it was no more than a meter away.

He hadn't had a chance to react to his approaching fate or to do anything other than stare at the vehicle in deep awe.

Several bystanders gasped in unison and gawped in horror as his body collided with the ground rigorously, the back of his head had brutally smacked against the road surface causing the scarlet red pool of blood around his; spreading slowly like a forest fire within the damp woods.

The mother exited the vehicle, bag of shopping within her tight grasp, so tight her knuckles were white. She forcefully cut her way through the crowd of witness's that surrounded the injured boy. At first they couldn't register what had just happened, it was a complete shock. But the boy didn't even look; so it wasn't a complete surprise when he ended up getting hit by the car.

But the onlookers' were gobsmacked when they had seen the mother of the child step out of the car, showing no sense of sorrow or anguish within her hazel eyes; it was as if she didn't care at all for her son.

With everyone's attention was attracted to the dying boy, the mother desperately dug her hand through the snow white plastic bag until she had what she severely desired within her grasp.

To the disbelief of the crowd, she downed over half of the contents on the first attempt. They couldn't believe what she had just done, how could she just stand there and binge when the poor boy was dying at her hand, because of her actions? She didn't even show any emotion at the devastation before her eyes. It was either a definite case of drink driving or she was just plain crazy.

That was what she wanted you to believe.

It was her blind spot that had gotten in the way, so when she rounded the corner she was prevented from noticing the boy until she was no more than a meter away.

She was unable to do anything other than stop the car abruptly, but by then it was too late.

She couldn't believe herself, how could she have just done that? How could she have been so stupid? Now the person she loved the most in the world was dying and it was all her fault.

She threw herself out of the vehicle, shopping bag within her grasp. She forced her way through the crowd of witness'.

The sight of her son was horrifying.

One thing that everyone loved about Jo was his appearance, but now his hair, which had once been spiked and always reflected light even on a dull day, was now filthy with grit and stained with layers of drying blood. His right leg was bent at an unnatural angle and his turquoise eyes, that had once been full of life and brightness, were now dull and lifeless, as if they were full of stone.

It was all her fault, she deserved punishment; she deserved to face consequences.

She didn't dare cry over her son, she didn't deserve to have her angst relieved. But she did however deserve to have the agony build up within her, until it had exceeded the maximum limit, and then allow it to destroy her mentally until her sanity was no more than one small speck of dust that had been swept away by a duster.

The paramedics had declared the boy dead upon impact. This was of course a lie. The onlookers' had seen the child's breaths shorten and lessen until he was unable to breathe at all.

She was soon taken to court. Her husband, who was able to read her like a book, saw past her charade. He knew that it wasn't a case of drink driving, but was instead a tragic accident. He was about to protest when he saw that look in her eyes, they pleaded with him to not say anything and to instead turn a blind eye. He reluctantly did so; he loved his wife too much to do anything else.

But he still knew that Caroline Swash, mother of one dead child, had willingly accepted the sentence for murder when she herself knew it was only manslaughter.

When she was found guilty, she didn't sigh to herself out of relief. That would've been too obvious. She was sentenced to a minimum of ten years in prison, which was far less than she felt she deserved, so she accepted it. It was nothing compared to how she wanted to punish herself.

The memory of Jo's Death still haunts the ones that loved him until this day, especially the one person who had been the cause of his death.

Since it was I who ended the life of Jo Swash.

A/N I wrote this out a few months ago for an English assignmen. We had to write a short story of no more than 1500 words based on 'Memories'. But I reread it, and fixed it up a little. I reckon this is the hardest I've ever worked for on a short story./

But I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it:)

Reviews are appreciated.