Mom

She will always be here for you....

She had been cooking since three, and I could smell the delectable scent of the simmering meat curving from the stairs and into my room. That same sizzling repeated until four. Then five. Then six. Then seven. Hearing that same sound, unlike the progression of cooking but instead a sizzle set on repeat, had driven me from my room.

When I strided into the kitchen, Mom was standing over the stove, softly prodding the steak and sifting it around its pan. I glanced into the pan as she was moving it softly, and what I saw was something more akin to a black mass of char than something that was edible. A confused grimace strewed across my face.

“H-Hey... I know I don’t cook, but I think that’s burnt….”

She turned her head slightly with a calm smile.

“Don’t worry, dear. I know what I’m doing. You just sit down and it’ll be done soon.”

She turned her head back to the pan.

The way she spoke made my hairs stand up on the back of my neck. It was a silky smoothness, so soothing in its timbre. And yet, there was a lack of greater emotion, a strange formality that wouldn’t come from a usually-casual comment, or the typical stopping power that came from a typical sentence. Her voice seemed to linger after her last word, like she was letting out all the breath from her lungs before she could finish.

Still, I did what she asked, having adjusted my glasses as they fogged a bit and sitting at the dinner table in silence for about thirty minutes. The sound of sizzling and the grandfather clock ticking was all that filled my ears. I put my hands behind my head and stayed my own thoughts– the only spot that was safe for me here. The one place she could not reach me.

Eventually, the kitchen had silenced. A few moments later, a plate slid in front of me. I was greeted with a complexion of charred steak, burnt down to the very center with very little seasoning. Surrounding it was a pool of juice, with a few carrot sticks and small pieces of broccoli strewn about and barely wreathing it.

She sat across from me, having her own plate of burnt meat in front of her, but did without the vegetables. I watched her for a few short moments before I took a bite of my own food. She had a more gleeful smile on her face as she took her fork and knife, cutting into the blackened mess with relative ease and with a perfect etiquette. But when she moved to eat the piece on her fork, her head lurched forward with a sudden eagerness, crunching the charred meat without seeming to have any regard for its taste.

She looked at me slowly, her eyes slowly sliding from her plate to me with a disgusting smoothness to the motion of her eyes.

“Cmon, Honey. Eat your food,” She said with careful words. “I made it specially for you.”

Without hesitation, I did as she asked. Even if there was a nervousness rising in me, I knew that no matter what, the best choice was to go along with it. It was a natural instinct to me.

I took my own fork and knife, finding a difficulty in cutting it as opposed to Mom’s clean slice. When I was finally able to cut it and taste it, the bitterness was overwhelming. Every fiber of my body wanted to spit it back out, but I forced myself to chew and swallow it down. No matter what, I could not displease Mom.

I forced a smile through the bits of char still clinging to my teeth and tongue.

“T-This… this is delicious… thank you….”

Her smile widened, clapping softly to herself.

“I’ve been getting so much better. I’m so glad you’re liking it. I’ll try something new tomorrow. This’ll be better than you than that slop you bring from school.”

“Y-Yeah… I guess….”

I start to eat the vegetables on my plate. Compared to the steak, they were like tiny deserts scattered around a pool of gutter filth.

“School all well and good…?”

“Yeah….”

“Good grades?”

“Mhm….”

“No bullies?”

“No Mom.”

“Good. The last one you had was not as coarse as the one before.”

I shuddered at the thought. We still had leftovers of him inside of the fridge. And the one before that was the first I had seen something so vile. He was gone the next day. I used to wonder where she had taken him. At least until I saw that she had a new bedside table. Lamp and all.

I struggled through the rest of the meat and eagerly ate at the raw vegetables that remained. When I was finished, I stood up to go and clean my plate, hoping to get out of there as soon as I could. Though, I stopped like a deer caught in headlights as I heard the sound of her chair sliding across the floor. Her footsteps approached, light yet still echoing in the quiet house. They stopped directly behind me as soon I felt a tender embrace wrap around me, a sharp dread filling my very soul as her arms curled around me.

And what soon followed was the sound of stretching skin, forcefully pulling what should not be possible nor natural. Her smiling face came into view in front of me, and I managed to muster a smile back, trying to ignore her neck in my peripheral. I hated having to look at her in the face. The way her face was almost like a malleable mask the more you stared into it. The way her eyes didn’t reflect any of the light around her, making them look dull and soulless always. And the way her body swayed with excitement despite her well-mannered words. Never taking a misstep. Like playing this role was the most fun thing to her.

“You’ve been such a good boy. I hope you know that….”

I could only silently and shakingly nod.

“Mom is so proud. We’ll go someplace fun after school tomorrow. Until then… keep your door unlocked tonight for me, won’t you?”

I nodded again, unable to properly put words out in my fear. Her face soon moved out of view and she began to loosen her grip, at which point I had quickly left the kitchen.

Once I made my way to the bathroom, shutting the door as I panted in panic, my hands freezing with pins and needles and my face turning pale as I stood over the sink. I gagged, but nothing came up– I was prepared to vomit into the sink, like I had done many times before, but I couldn’t. I had lost so much over so many months that my body was used to this sickening feeling, as though all of this was somehow natural.

The only thing I thought to do at that moment was cry. I stayed in that bathroom for almost an hour sobbing to my heart’s content. It was the only kind of relief I could get in a house that was no longer my own.

After that hour of peace had passed, I left the bathroom and went to bed, feeling completely and emotionally exhausted to the point where the second I collapsed, I was out like a light.

…

…

…

Deep into the night, I had woken up, my eyes nearly bugging out from my skull from the sudden wave of shock that shook me awake. I looked around, only able to move my eyes and only able to see the wall I had been facing when I quickly drifted off.

But I could feel her. Those eyes. The ones that blended deeply into the dark that you’d have to search for them thoroughly. I couldn’t see them. And that was what terrified me the most.

I heard her footsteps against the wood floor. They were heavier this time. Each one made me lose my sanity more and more. Though my body didn’t react– it physically couldn’t, as if it was put into a state of paralysis. Whether it be by fear, or some other force, I could not know.

She moved next to my bed, my heart pounding out of my chest as my body felt as though a thousand pins had been pushed into it. My mouth involuntarily opened as a result from this otherworldly sensation, the only feeling I had throughout my entire body, letting out this mix of a cut-off grunt and a cough. And when she stretched out a hand to softly stroke my hair, her fingers dug into my scalp with a terrifying tenderness. And my skin felt a slight pull, as though it was calling to her in some way, but never was able to pull itself from my flesh in this agonizing moment.

I must love Mom. I must praise Mom. Even with her stolen skin.

I can’t miss mom. I must love Mom.

I must adore Mom.

…

…

…

Maybe soon I’ll be with mom.