Chapter 1
As far as I can remember, the only person who has always been there for me is my mom. She did so much for me growing up even though she had me at the age of 20. I never met my dad and I don’t think I ever will since my mom was never married nor even in a relationship at the time. Long story short, I wasn’t supposed to be here. The geezer that brought me here didn’t want me or something, that was my guess and probably why he took off and left.
My mom, on the other hand, held on to me and cherished me. I was her pride and joy. She took every job position she had as long as I can “live a life she couldn’t have”. She would even work early and come home late at night exhausted to the point she would just go to bed instead of eating dinner. At times when there was something special like me being in a school play, she would work overtime just so that she could watch the play I was in, and after that, we would go out and get some Chinese food. She did everything for me on her own and I have been given the feeling she has since she was in a foster home for the rest of her life during her teen years.
My mom had a very tough life growing up. Her parents were in her words “extraordinary.”She told me her parents couldn’t be the ideal mom and dad she needed, often told that it was tradition for them to go hunting at night in the woods until dawn and have a certain family trait that was told nobody would understand. Full disclosure, I never met my grandpa or my grandma, Mom said that I will never see them and never know anything else about them. She was very defensive about me finding out more about Grandpa and Grandma, saying that my life will never be the same once I know about them. I thought she was just trying to hide it because she hates them or she was scared of them due to the fact she wasn’t “capable of being part of the family.” I was bound to find out eventually what happened when she said that meeting Grandpa and Grandma was never going to happen since they are no longer here with us. Apparently, it was due to their house burning down. Despite knowing that, I still had hope that I would find out more about them, though I didn’t expect to find out sooner than I thought.
At the time I was 14, I woke up around 10 pm at night. I craved a glass of water so I walked out of my bedroom, and groggily as I rubbed my eyes riddled with senseless fatigue. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen and heard cluttering and the drawers being slammed. I thought it was my Mom oddly even though she had never acted like this so I peeked from behind a wall and saw large kitchenware being thrown towards the living room ending up destroying the tv.
I then started to get even more unsettled seeing all of this, until I heard growling. The type of growling only an animal would make, it sounded hoarse and very visceral. I instantly knew that whoever was in the kitchen wasn’t my mom. I felt adrenaline rushing through my veins and I walked back upstairs and went to my Mom’s bedroom and saw the room was empty, I thought she hadn’t come home yet. I then tried calling her through my phone hoping she would pick up, to my despair I heard her phone downstairs.
So much ran through my mind and I couldn’t think straight, I was in my own house stuck with an intruder, and for all I knew my mother could have been hurt or something worse I didn’t want to think about it so I went to my bedroom and grabbed my baseball bat, quietly and as quick as I could, I made my way back down to the kitchen hoping to confront the intruder. I then heard wailing and grunting from behind the counter. I couldn’t see the intruder since they were below the counter, I started to become more scared thinking this must be someone with a mental disorder.
I started to walk around the counter at the same time distancing myself from the area the intruder was in. As I made my way around it, I started seeing a pool of blood running on the kitchen floor and I felt uneasy and confused about what was going on behind the counter. I readied my bat in an offensive stance and darted myself to where the intruder was. I never saw it coming, the growling and wailing weren’t from an intruder, nor was the blood. It was my Mom.
Her hair was a mess covering her face muffling her cries, her skin was pale as a corpse-like the ones in murder mysteries, and her veins were showing due to the rapid blood loss, I saw fresh bite marks along her arms as blood kept pouring out. Her clothes were also ripped and shredded by someone I didn’t know. My emotions started to get a hold of me and instantly tried to tend to my Mom. Key word tried. She lunged at me making me fall to the ground and her on top of me, thankfully I braced myself and my bat was held horizontally in front of me. I then started feeling her nails scratch my skin deeply and I pushed my baseball bat upwards her range was just slightly further away from my face but her weight strained the hold.
Within that time I was able to see my Mom’s face, her eyes glowed a lime green, and her pupils intensely constricted, while her teeth became abnormally sharp and spit flew out as she howled and growled furiously at me in the midst of her attacking me. She jotted her head forward-moving her jaw in an attempt to bite me.
“MOM PLEASE STOP,” I cried. “MOM STOP!”
I continued to shout at her, hoping that she would hear what I was trying to tell her, but none seemed to work so I kicked her in the stomach which didn’t do much either. I was about to give in to the thrashing and heavyweight she leaned against me on but deep down I knew I couldn’t give up yet. That was when I felt a sharp and intense pain on my right pinky finger realizing that she was trying to bite it off. The pain made my body feel rushed and while she tried to bite my finger off, I then used my left hand to punch her off me. With one hard strike, she flew right off me along with my finger off my hand. She fumbled on the ground as fast as possible and stood up and brace herself.
The rapid flow of blood streaming out of my amputated finger started to make me feel nauseous and my focus on my Mom stirred leaving me impaired and much more fragile to her primal attack. My Mom then leaped toward me with inhuman speed and to my surprise, I instinctively hit my Mom’s face with my baseball bat as hard as I could. Due to the impact of the bat, her attack was declined, and was pushed to the side and landed back on the floor. As she landed and fumbled on the floor, she went on all fours and started to what seemed like a dog preparing to attack. She growled and hissed at me while I started to back up and tried to fend off my Mom.
“Mom, what the fuck,” I aggressively cried out. “D-don’t do this p-please.”
I couldn’t bear to look at her like this and I started to break down even more and my mind became even more stirred. My own mother is right in front of me trying to kill me. She then jumped up to tackle me once more, this time succeeding. Due to my constant neglect of wanting to hurt her, I couldn’t hit her in time. She tackled me down again onto the floor and yet again I was in the same position a few seconds earlier. I braced her mouth with the baseball bat and her claws were barely out of reach, I managed to hold her off for a few seconds until she started scratching my chest and sharp pain rushed causing my strength and grip on my bat to decrease.
Her face started inching even closer with the bat still in her mouth and her reach was closer. Her hands were close enough to my face she was able to grip it, her claws digging into my forehead and cheeks. Her behavior became even more animalistic as she began to crush my head. I had never felt pain so excruciatingly violently than that, I started to scream chaotically amid my cries. My screams felt so uncontrollable and brutal, I started to lose composure.
“MOM IT HURTS PLEASE STOP!” I wailed to her hoping she would hear me.
I screamed and repeated that phrase the tighter her grip on my face got. My ears started to ring but my throat sprained. Despite the inaudible noises I made, I knew I was still screaming. I looked at her face and saw my mother’s face determined and viscerally rabid to kill me. I have never seen anything so terrifying in my life I couldn’t bear to look at it. I closed my eyes and hoped to God that the pain and horror would end.
I felt drops of liquid pour down on my face and opened my eyes slowly with caution. I then also began to hear whimpering and sharp sniffles, I saw my mother crying right in front of me. Her glowing eyes seemed less horrific but were rather filled with regret and full of fear. It was as if she was a kid who accidentally shattered a vase, Her grip on my face loosened and her visceral demeanor disappeared and all I saw right at that moment was fear and sadness. She stood back up and stumbled back down to the ground quivering and gasping.
