She’s been cutting again.
“Do I scare you?”
She shook; and effect from the drugs probably, the knife from her hand slipping to the ground, missing her toe just by an inch. Winston embraced his mother that was streaming red tears, her hair in a tangle of web, wafting of dried blood and beer.
That’s the only thing that Winston looked forward from his mother, her second, more loving and nurturing persona; the one that was more like a mother to him. But dread welled up inside of him when he thought that it would only last for an hour.
The abandonment had made his mother’s condition worse, leaving her first personality insane and psychotic. Because his father had left, they both were poor, and his mother was not able to pay for treatment. The burden was left for little Winston to carry.
“Hello, Winston, how was school, darling?” his mother asked, mixing the butter in with the potatoes. Winston nodded, once again pretending nothing had happened just sixty minutes ago. It was better this way; for his mother not to know the pain and fright she caused him every night…
“Great mom! Henry, in P.E. was awesome! He threw the basket all the way from across the gym, and it landed right in the basket. He said to me today that he was gonna be a basket ball player when he grows up!” Winston replied seating at the dinning table as his mother set the platter.
“That’s great hun, did you do your homework? You know I want to only see “E”s on your progress report!” His mother poured a glass of milk for him, and some water for herself. She only drank alcohol during her other personal.
He thanked his mother for dinner, and started out the kitchen when his mother called to him. “Win, do me a favor and wash the dishes tonight, I’m feeling really tired today.” She smiled to him, and then suddenly her eyes changed.
It will go away, it will go away.
Winston rocked himself back and forth trying to sooth the horrible fear that was welling inside of his guts. His mother took the half full water glass and threw it to the wall, hitting Winston slightly on the head. He whimpered silently in pain.
“You’re such an ass, just like your bitch father!” she screamed, her tears flooding from her eyes, making the dried blood on her cheeks moist.
“I’m so damn tired of you! I should just go kill myself so I won’t see your bitchy face ever again!” she screamed looking for the knife and starting to slice at her wrists. Winston wasn’t scared for her by now; he knew she wouldn’t cut deep enough to die; although sometimes he wished she did…
“Its you! You did this to me!” she turned the blade towards his direction, aiming the point to his neck. “You have to die!” She plunged to him, but Winston dodged, and she fell helplessly to the floor, her wrists streaming blood.
She sat up, looking at his crystal clear eyes, wishing death to her only son. She glided towards him, dripping a pool of her own blood.
His mother twitched, and crawled towards him.
“Join me, Winnie.” His mother let out with her last sigh of breath. Winston sat near his mother, in the pool of her own blood, staring at the shining knife pierced into his mother’s stomach.
This has been a Dark short story, check out more in the collection…that is…if you dare…
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