Mother

TW: Contains blood, parental violence, and psychological terror.

The night of my parents’ death clung to my memory like an uninvited guest.

The year I turned eight, mother had fallen ill with an unknown sickness, something that the numerous physicians we visited couldn’t attach a name to. She became pale white and very thin that even the slightest wind could knock her off her feet. Her nails were darkened, her once perfect black hair falling off the scalp. Even her eyes — once mirroring the deep green of the forest and the ray of light that cut through it — were now sunken, black rings forming the shadows of her eyelids. She looked like the thing you’d see in the corner of your room at night after a bad dream had leaked into reality.

Sometimes, I’d hear her footsteps around the house at ungodly hours. It became a nightly routine; my sudden wake to the creak of the floorboards against her feet, the gentle knock on my door, her receding footsteps, and the slamming of the front door. I always cowered under my blanket when I heard her outside my bedroom door. The knock breaking the peaceful silence of my room and awakening the feeling of impending doom in me as I knew the person on the other side wasn’t my mother.

When the sun was just below the horizon, she’d return to the house covered in mud with bruises and cuts on her hands.

---

I woke up one night to her standing above my bed staring at me. She ran her thin pale white fingers through my hair. Her black hair spilled from her head, hanging an inch from my face. She had a smile on her face that went from ear to ear and empty holes for eyes. My breath hitched as I took in her appearance.

“Don’t be scared honey, it’s just me.” she said in a whisper.

“Mommy?”

She nodded ever so slightly that I barely noticed.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice small and childlike.

“Yeah. I’m just gonna step out for a little bit,” she said. “For a walk.”

“But it’s dark out.”

“It’s most peaceful at night sweetie”.

“Can I come?”

She agreed.

I followed her that night. My memory stopping at the front door. I was found the next morning, by my father, lying on the ground just after the treeline next to our house. Mother returned two days later.

What happened that night?

---

The day mother killed herself and my father, she seemed more like herself. Life returned to those dead eyes and color to those hollowed out cheeks. It was a school day, she had woken me with a good morning kiss on the forehead, and ripped the blanket off my small, scrawny figure which left me feeling cold and exposed. It was late autumn and the morning air was crisp and prickled at my skin. The sky was bluish-gray and gloomy.

…come tiptoe through the tulips with me…

She made breakfast humming to an old timey song. A white night dress draped over her slender form and a tweed sweater which protected against the harsh morning weather.

The morning after was slow and unforgiving. The air was stale and heavy like the world had taken a pause to mock me. The events of the previous night clinging to my memory like a haunting. I had stayed under my bed for what felt like a lifetime til I heard the police sirens. Apparently, a neighbor had heard the sound of my father’s hunting rifle. I was taken to the police station and stayed there thinking of how my world had turned upside down in just a night. An officer tried asking me some questions but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe, this was becoming all too real. My uncle came to get me that morning. He was a corpulent man of average height with a moustache. Everything happened in a blur. From the station, to his car, to his house. His mouth was moving the whole time, but I couldn’t hear a word of what he was saying or understand it.

---

The night of the incident, I woke up to screaming. It was mother. The sound threatening to rip the house off its foundation. I scurried off my bed and pressed my ears against the worn wooden door trying to make sense of what was going on. Amidst the panicked screams of mother, I tried to listen for my father’s voice but there was no sign of him on the other side. The door creaked as I gently pushed it open scared of what I might come face to face with. The floorboards did nothing to help my stealth as every step I took echoed through the second floor.

I got to the stairs landing feeling a sense of unease as I tried to navigate through the dark house. The light was on in the living room. There was blood everywhere. An axe in her hand, my father on the floor. The blade hit his limp body with every swing. She hadn't noticed me. Her screams filled my mind as I stood there frozen, fear squeezing at my heart with its unforgiving grip. There was blood on the lamp, the couch, her night dress was soaked in blood. Her hair matted with his blood. Some got in her mouth with a piece of his flesh too. His face was turned towards me, with his eyes looking at me like it was my fault. As I made a move to run to my room, the screams stopped. She had noticed me. Her eyes were a deep black void. There was nothing behind those eyes.

The stairs stretched endlessly as she chased me. I ran. The house had never seemed more intimidating. I entered my room locked the door, and wedged it with the chair from my reading table.

Bang bang bang.

I rolled under my bed shaking as dread coursed through my veins. “Sweetie,” her voice came through the door.

“I just wanna talk. Can you please open the door?”

I sobbed into my hands trying not to make a sound.

“Elly, sweetie. I can explain. You see, your dad and I got into a big fight, and he tried to… hurt me… us, he tried… he wanted to hurt us.” she said in a whisper, “I just want to protect you Elly. I promise.”

I was silent. It was a full moon that night. The light cutting through the dark room flowing under my bed like the universe was bearing witness to what was going on. Sweat rolled down my body as I struggled to say the only prayer my mom had taught me. Our father...

Bang bang bang

The banging started again, the sound cutting through the silence, this time it was louder.

“OPEN THE DOOR!!!”

“Stop mummy please.” I cried.

It was silent on the other side of the door, her receding footsteps the only sound. I laid under my bed for what felt like eternity until I heard a loud bang echo through the house causing me to flinch. Bang. I trembled with fear as my mind began to wonder what it could be —but there was no mistaking the piercing sound of my dad’s hunting rifle.

Is she coming for me?