Hello my loves! ;* As it is said in my profile, I like to write short stories. I haven't written in years and I just started picking it up again, so it might not be the best, but I think they're pretty damn good 
I like to write surreal horror stories. Things that some peoples unfortunately deal with every day of their lives. This is a story called Among No Others. A short summary: Marie is a widow taking care of her 3 dysfunctional children. Marie stays strong and stands tall during the day, but at night the stress of her life overtakes her. This story is not for the faint of heart. I must warn you, its a very intense story. Let me know what you guys think 
;*
- Jambi
I love my mom. I really do. She is a gorgeous, strong, independent woman. Lately, she has been a real mess. Ever since my dad killed himself, she has never been the same. She acts like everything is ok, like nothing in the world could possibly bother her. She is always smiling and sweet and patient and kind and loving, especially with my older brother, Michael. He is out every single night getting wasted and hurting himself and others. He has scars all up and down his arms and his knuckles are crooked from punching walls and drunks. He comes home every morning by at least sunrise. Its the same every day. He comes homes, makes a racket, east some food, insults my mother then goes to his room for the day to recover from last night and prepare himself to do it all over again. One morning though, one of us just couldn't take it anymore.
The front door slams open and Michael comes stumbling in, bumping into every door and wall. My younger brother, Ian and I, are sitting at the kitchen table as mom makes us breakfast. My mom is beating some eggs at the kitchen sink. She is standing right in the middle of the kitchen window above the sink, staring at the eggs. I could hear her humming to herself over the bacon sizzling on a pan on the stove. The sun was shining through the window, silhouetting her hair. The sun was really showing off the beautiful shade of dark brown in her hair. She turns to get the bacon, and the sun bounces off of her skin and for a moment, its like my brain shuts down. Its like I couldn't breathe anymore. Every morning she looks more and more beautiful. I can't help but stare. Ian interrupts my thoughts. "Why are you looking at mom like that?" I snap out of my daze and look at Ian. He is only 10, but he is very smart for his age. When you talk to him, he looks at you like he has you completely figured out. Almost like he knows all of your fears and secrets. He is usually very quiet and he mostly keeps to himself and locks himself in our room. When he loses his temper, it can get very bad. I have never seen anyone, besides my father, lose control like Ian does. Four years ago, after the incident, Ian really lost it and locked himself in our room and bashed his head against his desk until he knocked himself out. I remember watching my mom bang on our door, begging Ian to open up. I remember hearing Ian's screams. I remember Michael killing a bottle of jack and laughing at my mother and calling her a failure and blaming her for his death. I was only 13, but I really felt for my mother. I got really angry and pushed Michael. He was so drunk, he dropped his bottle and instantly fell to the floor and landed on the bottle face first. That night, Ian got a head fracture, Michael broke his nose and right cheekbone, Michael broke my arm, and my mom fractured her knuckles and broke a wrist from banging on the door. Things have calmed down a little bit since then, but nothing has ever been the same.
"I'm looking at her because she is beautiful." I tell Ian. My mom looks at me as she walks over to the table with the bacon and smiles at me. I can't help but smile back. We meet eye to eye for a split second before the front door slams open. We both stop smiling at the same time and I can already tell how tired she is. As Michael comes stumbling towards the kitchen, my mom takes a deep breath and smiles again. She faces Michael and says "Hello, honey. Its good to see you. How was your night? I making some breakfast. It should be ready soon." Michael leans against the door frame in the entrance of the kitchen. He slowly blinks and stares at my mother. "Real fucking original, ma." He slurs. He walks to the table and grabs a handful of bacon. He loses his balance and falls into the table. The plate of bacon crashes to the floor. The food slides all over the place. Michael just stands there, stuffs the bacon into his mouth, then walks to his room, stepping on the food on his way out. He slams his door shut and I can hear him throwing things and yelling at himself. My mother is just standing at the stove, taking this all in. We all sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. My mom then takes a deep breath, smooths down her pajama top and walks to the eggs on the counter. She picks up the bowl then heads back to the stove and tosses the eggs in the pan. She starts humming to herself again. Ian and I look at each other and I just shrug. I get up and put some bread in the toaster then I clean up the mess around her while she finishes cooking. "Honey, don't do that. I got it." She tells me as I throw away the bacon. I turn to her and put my hand on her arm. I look her in the eyes and I say, "Its ok. You do way more than enough for me." She smiles and puts her hand on mine. Her hand is so warm and soft. I break the stare and finish making the toast. The eggs are all set by the time I finish with the toast. I make a plate for Ian, my mom and I and I sit at the table as my mom gives each of us some eggs. She joins us at the table. Ian and I don't move for a few seconds. We just watch her. It always scares me how quickly she gets over Michael's tantrums. Its almost like Ian can read my mind, the way he is looking at her. It really makes me nervous for both of them. My mom looks at Ian and I and says "Well...dig in!" She starts to eat her breakfast and Ian and I start eating as well. After a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence, my mom says to me, "Caleb, this is the best toast I have ever eaten." I look up and I catch her grinning at me. I feel like I have jello for bones when she grins at me like that. Her light brown eyes are shining so bright its blinding, but gorgeous. Her smile sends shivers down my spine. Her embrace is always so warm and comforting. I just smile back at her. Its all I can do.
Ian finishes his last few bites and gets up and puts his dishes in the sink. He leaves the kitchen and heads to our room without saying a word. Sometimes it scares me how quiet he is. My mom and I have finished eating as well, but we just sit together in silence. I look over at her and she is just staring straight ahead. I can already see the stress of today start to dawn on her. "Everything will be ok. We will always have each other." I say to her as I put my hand on her shoulder. She snaps back to reality and looks at me. "Can you make sure Ian is all ready for school? You should get ready yourself. You don't want to be late again." I sigh and grin at her as I get up. Ian and I are usually late for school, because Ian gets picked on a lot because of dad. We live in a small town and news travels fast. Ian hates school. Poor kid can never catch a break. I reach for our plates and she says, "Leave it, honey. I have to do the dishes anyway. Just go, its getting late." I look over at the clock. 7:15 am. If we hurry, we will just make it. Ian's school is only a five minute walk away. My school is a bit farther down the road. I head to my bedroom. As I pass Michael's room, I listen hard to see if he was asleep yet. I couldn't hear anything, so I assume he finally crashed. When I get to my room, I knock on the door. "Ian? Are you decent? We gotta get ready and I still need to get ready." No answer. I knock again. "Ian?" Still nothing. I press my ear to the door. I don't hear a thing. "Ian?" Nothing. I can feel my chest start to tighten from the anxiety. What could be wrong, though? He always takes his time when he gets ready. I remember one day we were really late, so I barged into the room and he was just standing on his bed facing the wall. He has these episodes every now and then. I'm getting impatient, so I open the door. "Ian, we really need to..." Ian is hanging from the pipe that runs across the ceiling in our room. His eye balls are hanging out of his head and there is blood pouring from his face. His body is slowly swinging back and forth. just barely touching the foot stool that fell sideways on the floor. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think." "Shit...shit...shit...fuck, no...shit..." I start shaking and run to Ian. I try to get him down, but I can't. I'm hyperventilating and crying so bad. "Mom...MOM!" I scream. "MOM! HELP! MOM!" I can hear her running into our room from behind me. She stops at the doorway and gasps. "Caleb...what the fuck..." I turn around and I see her slowly backing up. Her face is pale white and expressionless. She bumps into the wall in the hallway and bursts into tears. "Mom...I tried...I mean...I...shit...mom, I..." She can't hear me. She is crying to loud and too hard. I get up and run to the living room for the telephone. I call the police and tell them what happened. When I hang up, I take a deep breath and head back to my room. My mom Ian down and she was crying over his body. "Mom? The police are on their way." She didn't even budge. She just kept crying and saying Ian's name over and over. Seeing her cry like that made my throat feel tight. I go over to her and try to comfort her, but there's not much I can do.
Michael doesn't even show up for the funeral. I'm glad that he didn't show. I didn't want him to add anymore stress to the situation. It was jsut my mother and I at the funeral. We don't have a ton of family where we live. My fathers parents abandoned him when he was a kid. He was passed between foster homes because he was so problematic. When he turned 18, he met my mother. They fell in love instantly and ended up moving in together after just three months of dating. My mother had her own rocky back ground. Her mother died giving birth to her. Her father raised her on his own. My mom used to tell me stories about how he was a very gentle and kind man. He would put everything aside just got my moms happiness. He never liked m dad, but he never said anything or stopped my mother from seeing him. He passed away after she had Michael. At first, my mom and dad's relationship was picture perfect. They really made each other happy. Unfortunately, as time went on, my dad let his past and his problems get the best of him and he drank to forget. I don't remember when he started to beat my mother, but something snapped inside him and he started hitting Michael and I when I was about 10. It was never a daily thing, but if you caught him at the wrong time, you would surely pay. Ian's teacher and his classmates came to the wake, but not the funeral. I can't really say I'm surprised.
After the funeral, back at the house late at night, I lie awake and listen to my mother drink and cry. I do this every night. She lets go at night, usually when she thinks everyone is asleep. She doesn't know that her crying wakes me up. Its like an alarm. I always know when she gets like that and I'm always awake to listen. Sometimes I hate it. I don't want to hear my mother like that. Other times, I don't mind it. Its like I'm listening to a whole other part of her. A part she would never show me willingly. Mostly I wish I could just comfort her. I want to hold her and tell her that its going to be ok. That I will keep her safe and sound. I want to stroke her hair and kiss her nose. I want to tell her I love her, but not the way that she loves me. My love for her goes deeper than that. Way deeper. Its sick and twisted and wrong, but I cant help it. Its not like I just want to have sex with her, I want to listen to her talk and give her advice. I want to help her and guide her. I want to be her other half. I do want to hold her hand and kiss her and sneak up behind her and grab her waist and kiss her ear while she giggles and softly says my name.The thought of sleeping with her has crossed my mind, but I stop those thoughts immediately. I wont let it go that far. I cant.
"Caleb...Caleb..." She's calling my name. I get up and look at the clock. 2:32 am. I go into her room and find her curled up in a ball in her bed with a bottle. There's bottles everywhere. Most are empty. The rest are close. "Honey...please lie down with me. I don't want to be alone." I take the bottle from her and put it on the floor. I pull the covers out from under her and crawl into the bed. I lie down at a respectable distance, but she pulls me closer and puts her head on my chest and wraps her legs around mine. I don't move. "Caleb, I know." She whispers. "Huh? Know what?" I ask. "I know. I hear you talk in your sleep." My heart starts to race. God only knows what I could have said. "What do you mean?" She can't possibly mean what I think she means. She's drunk. I don't even know if she knows what she's saying. She sighs deeply and whispers "I love you, too." She then picks her head up and leans in very close to my face. She lightly kisses me on my lips. I don't move. I don't breathe. I don't think. She falls back on my chest and plays with my hand that's resting on my stomach. We lock hands and she starts to relax and fall asleep. I decide that for right now, I'm just going to accept it. I snuggle into her and put my other arm around her and fall asleep.
When I wake up, I'm on my side facing the door. I roll over and my mom is facing the other way, fast asleep, curled up into a ball. I lay there staring at her for a minute and think about last night. Does she even remember? Do I want her to remember? Part of me does. Part of me wants me to remember so it can happen again and she can finally have someone to hold her and be there for her. Someone she can count on. Someone who sees her true beauty. Someone like me. If she truly feels the same way, I want to make it happen. If she doesn't, she might hate me and accuse me of taking advantage of her, which I would never, ever do. I love her. I respect her. Then again, she is my mom. I shouldn't have this type of relationship with her. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Last night, I was in complete bliss. I was never more comfortable than having her in my arms. Nothing has ever felt more right. Maybe I should just keep this to myself. I don't think I want her to remember anyway. I look at the clock. 5:13 am. I need to pee. I slowly and carefully ease myself out of bed. She doesn't even budge. I start to collect the empty bottles around the room and the near empty ones that are still in the bed. My arms are full of bottles, so I head to the kitchen. I start to clean out the bottles and throw them away. When I finish cleaning up, I can hear Michael's keys in the door. Damn. Mom is still passed out and there is no breakfast ready. He slams open the front door and heads into the kitchen. I go to the sink and wash the rest of the dishes. I can hear him stop at the table behind me. I start to get really nervous. "Where the fuck is she?" He doesn't sound drunk, just tired. "She's still sleeping. Let her sleep, would you? I'll make you something to eat." He doesn't answer me, but I can hear him stepping closer and closer to me. He stops directly behind me. I can feel him breathing down my neck. I start to shake as I wash the last plate. My heart is racing. "What did you say, you little bitch?" He says real quiet in my ear. I clear my throat. I just mean that she has been really stressed lately and she just really needs the sleep." I don't dare turn around. He's real quiet for a moment then he slaps me real hard in the back of the head. I drop the plate, but keep my ground. The plate clatters in the sink and he grabs me by the back of the neck. He starts to choke me with his other hand. I try to kick him off and shake him off, but he wont let go. Its almost like I'm not doing anything. Just as my head starts pounding really hard and I feel like I'm about to pass out, he lets go of my throat, but hangs on to the back of my neck. He gets real close to my face. His eyes are bloodshot and his pupils are so dilated, I almost can't tell what color they are. "If you ever talk to me like that again, I'll fucking kill you. Then that miserable cow can finally off herself just like that prick of a husband of hers. You hear me? I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands, you piece of shit." My heart feels like its going to explode out of my chest. All I can do is nod. He pushes me away from him then goes to his room and slams his door shut. I try to keep it together. I take a few deeps breaths and try to calm myself down. I cant help it. I completely break down. I fall to the floor and put my face in my hands and I cry. Why do I have to deal with this? Why do I have to be so fucked up? What did I ever do? I never wanted to fall in love with my mother. I never asked for these feelings. I never make myself have these thoughts and dreams. Why do I have to be so fucked up? I try so hard to make life worth living. What is the point anymore? I hate my life. I hate my brother. I hate myself. Whats the point if I just keep getting shit on? All I ever want is peace. Peace and happiness. I know I'll never get it. I have never been happy. My life has always been shit. Why should I have to suffer? Why should my mother suffer? I can't see her like this anymore. I cant. I just cant. She will be so much better without me. She will finally be happy. She will finally find peace, I just know it. She wont have to deal with my fucking disgusting fantasies anymore. She can be free. So will I. I pull myself together and wipe my face and get up off the floor. I head for the bathroom and go into the medicine cabinet. I take out Michael's stash of pills. I then go into the closet in the hallway and grab a disposable razor. I saw Michael do this once when I was 11. He broke it open and took out a razor blade and slit his wrists. I go back into the kitchen and get a glass of water. I sit on the floor and open the first bottle of pills. I don't even read it. I take three pills then grab the next bottle and take three more mystery pills, I grab the third bottle and take another set of three pills. My heart is beating really hard now. My head is starting to spin. I take the razor and break it until I get a blade out. I put the blade to my arm and drag it up and down my arm as hard as I can. Blood is gushing out of my arm. I can still feel the pain. I decide to take a couple more pills. I start to feel really strange, so I start to cut myself again. I don't feel a thing. I don't feel the cold of the blade or the sting of the cuts. I cant feel the blood pouring down anymore. I just don't feel a thing. I am so happy, I continue to cut myself on both my arms and my face and neck. I am so excited I cant feel anything, I cant help myself. I close my eyes for a moment and stop to bask in this great feeling. When I open my eyes, the room is spinning something fierce and all I can see is red. Everywhere is red. All over my body and all over the floors and walls. I decide to lie down, hoping it will make my head feel better. I sigh deeply and let this feeling over come me. This must be what complete happiness and comfort feels like. I smile to myself as I let the drugs take over.
I like to write surreal horror stories. Things that some peoples unfortunately deal with every day of their lives. This is a story called Among No Others. A short summary: Marie is a widow taking care of her 3 dysfunctional children. Marie stays strong and stands tall during the day, but at night the stress of her life overtakes her. This story is not for the faint of heart. I must warn you, its a very intense story. Let me know what you guys think ;*
- Jambi
I love my mom. I really do. She is a gorgeous, strong, independent woman. Lately, she has been a real mess. Ever since my dad killed himself, she has never been the same. She acts like everything is ok, like nothing in the world could possibly bother her. She is always smiling and sweet and patient and kind and loving, especially with my older brother, Michael. He is out every single night getting wasted and hurting himself and others. He has scars all up and down his arms and his knuckles are crooked from punching walls and drunks. He comes home every morning by at least sunrise. Its the same every day. He comes homes, makes a racket, east some food, insults my mother then goes to his room for the day to recover from last night and prepare himself to do it all over again. One morning though, one of us just couldn't take it anymore.
The front door slams open and Michael comes stumbling in, bumping into every door and wall. My younger brother, Ian and I, are sitting at the kitchen table as mom makes us breakfast. My mom is beating some eggs at the kitchen sink. She is standing right in the middle of the kitchen window above the sink, staring at the eggs. I could hear her humming to herself over the bacon sizzling on a pan on the stove. The sun was shining through the window, silhouetting her hair. The sun was really showing off the beautiful shade of dark brown in her hair. She turns to get the bacon, and the sun bounces off of her skin and for a moment, its like my brain shuts down. Its like I couldn't breathe anymore. Every morning she looks more and more beautiful. I can't help but stare. Ian interrupts my thoughts. "Why are you looking at mom like that?" I snap out of my daze and look at Ian. He is only 10, but he is very smart for his age. When you talk to him, he looks at you like he has you completely figured out. Almost like he knows all of your fears and secrets. He is usually very quiet and he mostly keeps to himself and locks himself in our room. When he loses his temper, it can get very bad. I have never seen anyone, besides my father, lose control like Ian does. Four years ago, after the incident, Ian really lost it and locked himself in our room and bashed his head against his desk until he knocked himself out. I remember watching my mom bang on our door, begging Ian to open up. I remember hearing Ian's screams. I remember Michael killing a bottle of jack and laughing at my mother and calling her a failure and blaming her for his death. I was only 13, but I really felt for my mother. I got really angry and pushed Michael. He was so drunk, he dropped his bottle and instantly fell to the floor and landed on the bottle face first. That night, Ian got a head fracture, Michael broke his nose and right cheekbone, Michael broke my arm, and my mom fractured her knuckles and broke a wrist from banging on the door. Things have calmed down a little bit since then, but nothing has ever been the same.
"I'm looking at her because she is beautiful." I tell Ian. My mom looks at me as she walks over to the table with the bacon and smiles at me. I can't help but smile back. We meet eye to eye for a split second before the front door slams open. We both stop smiling at the same time and I can already tell how tired she is. As Michael comes stumbling towards the kitchen, my mom takes a deep breath and smiles again. She faces Michael and says "Hello, honey. Its good to see you. How was your night? I making some breakfast. It should be ready soon." Michael leans against the door frame in the entrance of the kitchen. He slowly blinks and stares at my mother. "Real fucking original, ma." He slurs. He walks to the table and grabs a handful of bacon. He loses his balance and falls into the table. The plate of bacon crashes to the floor. The food slides all over the place. Michael just stands there, stuffs the bacon into his mouth, then walks to his room, stepping on the food on his way out. He slams his door shut and I can hear him throwing things and yelling at himself. My mother is just standing at the stove, taking this all in. We all sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. My mom then takes a deep breath, smooths down her pajama top and walks to the eggs on the counter. She picks up the bowl then heads back to the stove and tosses the eggs in the pan. She starts humming to herself again. Ian and I look at each other and I just shrug. I get up and put some bread in the toaster then I clean up the mess around her while she finishes cooking. "Honey, don't do that. I got it." She tells me as I throw away the bacon. I turn to her and put my hand on her arm. I look her in the eyes and I say, "Its ok. You do way more than enough for me." She smiles and puts her hand on mine. Her hand is so warm and soft. I break the stare and finish making the toast. The eggs are all set by the time I finish with the toast. I make a plate for Ian, my mom and I and I sit at the table as my mom gives each of us some eggs. She joins us at the table. Ian and I don't move for a few seconds. We just watch her. It always scares me how quickly she gets over Michael's tantrums. Its almost like Ian can read my mind, the way he is looking at her. It really makes me nervous for both of them. My mom looks at Ian and I and says "Well...dig in!" She starts to eat her breakfast and Ian and I start eating as well. After a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence, my mom says to me, "Caleb, this is the best toast I have ever eaten." I look up and I catch her grinning at me. I feel like I have jello for bones when she grins at me like that. Her light brown eyes are shining so bright its blinding, but gorgeous. Her smile sends shivers down my spine. Her embrace is always so warm and comforting. I just smile back at her. Its all I can do.
Ian finishes his last few bites and gets up and puts his dishes in the sink. He leaves the kitchen and heads to our room without saying a word. Sometimes it scares me how quiet he is. My mom and I have finished eating as well, but we just sit together in silence. I look over at her and she is just staring straight ahead. I can already see the stress of today start to dawn on her. "Everything will be ok. We will always have each other." I say to her as I put my hand on her shoulder. She snaps back to reality and looks at me. "Can you make sure Ian is all ready for school? You should get ready yourself. You don't want to be late again." I sigh and grin at her as I get up. Ian and I are usually late for school, because Ian gets picked on a lot because of dad. We live in a small town and news travels fast. Ian hates school. Poor kid can never catch a break. I reach for our plates and she says, "Leave it, honey. I have to do the dishes anyway. Just go, its getting late." I look over at the clock. 7:15 am. If we hurry, we will just make it. Ian's school is only a five minute walk away. My school is a bit farther down the road. I head to my bedroom. As I pass Michael's room, I listen hard to see if he was asleep yet. I couldn't hear anything, so I assume he finally crashed. When I get to my room, I knock on the door. "Ian? Are you decent? We gotta get ready and I still need to get ready." No answer. I knock again. "Ian?" Still nothing. I press my ear to the door. I don't hear a thing. "Ian?" Nothing. I can feel my chest start to tighten from the anxiety. What could be wrong, though? He always takes his time when he gets ready. I remember one day we were really late, so I barged into the room and he was just standing on his bed facing the wall. He has these episodes every now and then. I'm getting impatient, so I open the door. "Ian, we really need to..." Ian is hanging from the pipe that runs across the ceiling in our room. His eye balls are hanging out of his head and there is blood pouring from his face. His body is slowly swinging back and forth. just barely touching the foot stool that fell sideways on the floor. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think." "Shit...shit...shit...fuck, no...shit..." I start shaking and run to Ian. I try to get him down, but I can't. I'm hyperventilating and crying so bad. "Mom...MOM!" I scream. "MOM! HELP! MOM!" I can hear her running into our room from behind me. She stops at the doorway and gasps. "Caleb...what the fuck..." I turn around and I see her slowly backing up. Her face is pale white and expressionless. She bumps into the wall in the hallway and bursts into tears. "Mom...I tried...I mean...I...shit...mom, I..." She can't hear me. She is crying to loud and too hard. I get up and run to the living room for the telephone. I call the police and tell them what happened. When I hang up, I take a deep breath and head back to my room. My mom Ian down and she was crying over his body. "Mom? The police are on their way." She didn't even budge. She just kept crying and saying Ian's name over and over. Seeing her cry like that made my throat feel tight. I go over to her and try to comfort her, but there's not much I can do.
Michael doesn't even show up for the funeral. I'm glad that he didn't show. I didn't want him to add anymore stress to the situation. It was jsut my mother and I at the funeral. We don't have a ton of family where we live. My fathers parents abandoned him when he was a kid. He was passed between foster homes because he was so problematic. When he turned 18, he met my mother. They fell in love instantly and ended up moving in together after just three months of dating. My mother had her own rocky back ground. Her mother died giving birth to her. Her father raised her on his own. My mom used to tell me stories about how he was a very gentle and kind man. He would put everything aside just got my moms happiness. He never liked m dad, but he never said anything or stopped my mother from seeing him. He passed away after she had Michael. At first, my mom and dad's relationship was picture perfect. They really made each other happy. Unfortunately, as time went on, my dad let his past and his problems get the best of him and he drank to forget. I don't remember when he started to beat my mother, but something snapped inside him and he started hitting Michael and I when I was about 10. It was never a daily thing, but if you caught him at the wrong time, you would surely pay. Ian's teacher and his classmates came to the wake, but not the funeral. I can't really say I'm surprised.
After the funeral, back at the house late at night, I lie awake and listen to my mother drink and cry. I do this every night. She lets go at night, usually when she thinks everyone is asleep. She doesn't know that her crying wakes me up. Its like an alarm. I always know when she gets like that and I'm always awake to listen. Sometimes I hate it. I don't want to hear my mother like that. Other times, I don't mind it. Its like I'm listening to a whole other part of her. A part she would never show me willingly. Mostly I wish I could just comfort her. I want to hold her and tell her that its going to be ok. That I will keep her safe and sound. I want to stroke her hair and kiss her nose. I want to tell her I love her, but not the way that she loves me. My love for her goes deeper than that. Way deeper. Its sick and twisted and wrong, but I cant help it. Its not like I just want to have sex with her, I want to listen to her talk and give her advice. I want to help her and guide her. I want to be her other half. I do want to hold her hand and kiss her and sneak up behind her and grab her waist and kiss her ear while she giggles and softly says my name.The thought of sleeping with her has crossed my mind, but I stop those thoughts immediately. I wont let it go that far. I cant.
"Caleb...Caleb..." She's calling my name. I get up and look at the clock. 2:32 am. I go into her room and find her curled up in a ball in her bed with a bottle. There's bottles everywhere. Most are empty. The rest are close. "Honey...please lie down with me. I don't want to be alone." I take the bottle from her and put it on the floor. I pull the covers out from under her and crawl into the bed. I lie down at a respectable distance, but she pulls me closer and puts her head on my chest and wraps her legs around mine. I don't move. "Caleb, I know." She whispers. "Huh? Know what?" I ask. "I know. I hear you talk in your sleep." My heart starts to race. God only knows what I could have said. "What do you mean?" She can't possibly mean what I think she means. She's drunk. I don't even know if she knows what she's saying. She sighs deeply and whispers "I love you, too." She then picks her head up and leans in very close to my face. She lightly kisses me on my lips. I don't move. I don't breathe. I don't think. She falls back on my chest and plays with my hand that's resting on my stomach. We lock hands and she starts to relax and fall asleep. I decide that for right now, I'm just going to accept it. I snuggle into her and put my other arm around her and fall asleep.
When I wake up, I'm on my side facing the door. I roll over and my mom is facing the other way, fast asleep, curled up into a ball. I lay there staring at her for a minute and think about last night. Does she even remember? Do I want her to remember? Part of me does. Part of me wants me to remember so it can happen again and she can finally have someone to hold her and be there for her. Someone she can count on. Someone who sees her true beauty. Someone like me. If she truly feels the same way, I want to make it happen. If she doesn't, she might hate me and accuse me of taking advantage of her, which I would never, ever do. I love her. I respect her. Then again, she is my mom. I shouldn't have this type of relationship with her. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Last night, I was in complete bliss. I was never more comfortable than having her in my arms. Nothing has ever felt more right. Maybe I should just keep this to myself. I don't think I want her to remember anyway. I look at the clock. 5:13 am. I need to pee. I slowly and carefully ease myself out of bed. She doesn't even budge. I start to collect the empty bottles around the room and the near empty ones that are still in the bed. My arms are full of bottles, so I head to the kitchen. I start to clean out the bottles and throw them away. When I finish cleaning up, I can hear Michael's keys in the door. Damn. Mom is still passed out and there is no breakfast ready. He slams open the front door and heads into the kitchen. I go to the sink and wash the rest of the dishes. I can hear him stop at the table behind me. I start to get really nervous. "Where the fuck is she?" He doesn't sound drunk, just tired. "She's still sleeping. Let her sleep, would you? I'll make you something to eat." He doesn't answer me, but I can hear him stepping closer and closer to me. He stops directly behind me. I can feel him breathing down my neck. I start to shake as I wash the last plate. My heart is racing. "What did you say, you little bitch?" He says real quiet in my ear. I clear my throat. I just mean that she has been really stressed lately and she just really needs the sleep." I don't dare turn around. He's real quiet for a moment then he slaps me real hard in the back of the head. I drop the plate, but keep my ground. The plate clatters in the sink and he grabs me by the back of the neck. He starts to choke me with his other hand. I try to kick him off and shake him off, but he wont let go. Its almost like I'm not doing anything. Just as my head starts pounding really hard and I feel like I'm about to pass out, he lets go of my throat, but hangs on to the back of my neck. He gets real close to my face. His eyes are bloodshot and his pupils are so dilated, I almost can't tell what color they are. "If you ever talk to me like that again, I'll fucking kill you. Then that miserable cow can finally off herself just like that prick of a husband of hers. You hear me? I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands, you piece of shit." My heart feels like its going to explode out of my chest. All I can do is nod. He pushes me away from him then goes to his room and slams his door shut. I try to keep it together. I take a few deeps breaths and try to calm myself down. I cant help it. I completely break down. I fall to the floor and put my face in my hands and I cry. Why do I have to deal with this? Why do I have to be so fucked up? What did I ever do? I never wanted to fall in love with my mother. I never asked for these feelings. I never make myself have these thoughts and dreams. Why do I have to be so fucked up? I try so hard to make life worth living. What is the point anymore? I hate my life. I hate my brother. I hate myself. Whats the point if I just keep getting shit on? All I ever want is peace. Peace and happiness. I know I'll never get it. I have never been happy. My life has always been shit. Why should I have to suffer? Why should my mother suffer? I can't see her like this anymore. I cant. I just cant. She will be so much better without me. She will finally be happy. She will finally find peace, I just know it. She wont have to deal with my fucking disgusting fantasies anymore. She can be free. So will I. I pull myself together and wipe my face and get up off the floor. I head for the bathroom and go into the medicine cabinet. I take out Michael's stash of pills. I then go into the closet in the hallway and grab a disposable razor. I saw Michael do this once when I was 11. He broke it open and took out a razor blade and slit his wrists. I go back into the kitchen and get a glass of water. I sit on the floor and open the first bottle of pills. I don't even read it. I take three pills then grab the next bottle and take three more mystery pills, I grab the third bottle and take another set of three pills. My heart is beating really hard now. My head is starting to spin. I take the razor and break it until I get a blade out. I put the blade to my arm and drag it up and down my arm as hard as I can. Blood is gushing out of my arm. I can still feel the pain. I decide to take a couple more pills. I start to feel really strange, so I start to cut myself again. I don't feel a thing. I don't feel the cold of the blade or the sting of the cuts. I cant feel the blood pouring down anymore. I just don't feel a thing. I am so happy, I continue to cut myself on both my arms and my face and neck. I am so excited I cant feel anything, I cant help myself. I close my eyes for a moment and stop to bask in this great feeling. When I open my eyes, the room is spinning something fierce and all I can see is red. Everywhere is red. All over my body and all over the floors and walls. I decide to lie down, hoping it will make my head feel better. I sigh deeply and let this feeling over come me. This must be what complete happiness and comfort feels like. I smile to myself as I let the drugs take over.