Simon felt the tears stream down his face as he looked down at his mother's coffin. It wasn't fair. He knew he shouldn't be thinking like that. He should be remembering her, her joy; the happiness that she spread. But he couldn't help tightening his hands into fists and screwing up his eyes with the pain.

The priest's words rang dully in his ears. He couldn't hear what was being said, though he stood barely a foot from him. He didn't want to hear. Empty words. They could do nothing for him, they couldn't bring her back.

Simon stood, dressed in faded jeans and a torn hoodie; the only black clothes he owned. He might have felt embarrassed about his casual attire if anyone was there to care. He was alone with the priest.

Simon had never felt lonely, though by rights perhaps he ought to. He kept away from everyone at school, isolating himself. It was the only way to be safe, to be happy. And at home he had his Mum, the best of friends. Not any more.

Some part of his mind registered the silence. Simon looked up to see the priest walking away, leaving him standing there. Somebody would come to lower the coffin into the ground, to cover it up and leave a simple stone marker as a sole reminder to the world of his mother. It didn't feel enough.

Simon saw a woman struggling towards him in too-high heels, hobbling across the uneven graveyard. He recognised her, it was Sally. They had met the day before, she had introduced herself as a social-worker. There to make sure he was safe, that he was looked after. He didn't like her, she wasn't Mum.

“Come on, Simon.” She said brusquely as she approached, “we have a busy day today, lots to do.”

Simon didn't want to leave, he wasn't ready to say goodbye. Not yet. Not ever. He was vaguely aware of her standing awkwardly, her arm outstretched as if to drag him away.

Simon looked back at the simple wooden coffin, thinking about the woman who lay at rest within. The words she had spoken to him that morning before school, the words she had told him every morning, rang in his ears;

“You're a winner Simon. You can't let anyone take that away from you. Remember that, you're a winner.”

Simon turned, walking away in the direction Sally had come from. He made to brush the tears from his face with a sleeve, but they wouldn't stop flowing.