AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Dad ain't ever coming back, Mama. Ever… you made fucking sure of that when you stabbed him twenty-five times.”
Thwack. Her palm stings my cheek as it connects.
“What a cruel, evil thing to say, Richie, I should wash your mouth out,” she scolds.
“It’s the cruel and evil truth, and I've been playing along with whatever this is for too many years now.”
She stumbles back and drops into her chair as recollection battles through the walls she’s built in her head. And suddenly her expression turns horrified, and her hands cover her mouth when reality sinks in.
“And do you know why I do this, Mama?” I crouch in front of her and take her hands in mine.
“I do it out of guilt because I should have been the one to stop him from hurting us, I should have been the one who stopped him hurting them… way before you had to find out. But I was scared of him. I believed all the shit he told me about him being part of God's plan because I was too fucking scared to end him myself. I should be the one who killed him. It was meant to be me.”
AGED 16
Dad’s car is parked outside the house when the bus drops me at the end of our lane. It can only mean trouble, Dad never comes home early. His routine is regimental.
As I walk closer toward the house, I think of all the reasons that might have brought him home early, perhaps Mama is sick. Or maybe someone’s found out about the bodies that are hidden up at Sinnerman’s Quarry.
When I step onto the porch, the door creaks open. I’m greeted with an eerie silence, and as I walk into the living room, my feet freeze on the perfectly polished wood beneath them. There’s blood everywhere, soaking into the floorboards, smeared onto the wall, and all trails of it lead to the lifeless body of my father that’s sitting propped up against the wall.
His white shirt is red from blood, slashes and holes punctured through the fabric. Turning my head, I see Mama sitting up straight in her chair, her usually immaculate dress stained red, and her hands soaked to her elbow in thick red blood. When she turns her head and looks at me, her eyes are vacant and unapologetic, and I slowly step toward her and pry the carving knife out of her hand, dropping it to the floor.
Slowly and with her normal elegance, she rises to her feet, ignoring the blood on her hands and the mess surrounding us as she moves closer to me. Her hand brushes through my hair, setting it in place before her tacky fingers straighten up my tie.
I notice the red toolbox beside her chair and close my eyes. She knows, I can’t protect her from it anymore.
“That’s better, Richie.” She smiles at me.
“I’m quite tired, I think I should lay down for a while.” She’s robotic as she turns away from me and starts heading up the stairs, her hand leaving a bloody trail on the banister.
“Mama, he killed innocent women, he beat you almost every day. And I’ve had to listen to you tell me I’m like him for over ten years. I’m nothing fucking like him. I fight every day to battle those demons. But that doesn’t mean I’m good. I’m in a biker gang called the Dirty Souls, my family out there consists of ruthless, dangerous men, who fight and kill for what they want and the people they love. But I’ve only ever cleaned up for them. Like I did for him, and the same way I did for you.”
“You’re lying, and when your father gets home he’s going to be furious with you for upsetting me.” She shakes her head, refusing to accept what's coming back to her.
“I never blamed you for what you did to him. I only ever blamed myself. You found out who he was that day, and you were hurt. You did what I should have done the day I found those pictures. I took care of it though, I used what he taught me to make sure no one ever finds him. And that’s the sick part of me, Mama. I have his compulsions too, I need to control everything around me and I exhaust myself trying to keep it in, but I can do it. I’ve been doing it for all these years.”
I can see that my words are sinking in as she looks sadder.
“You’re safe. To everyone else, Dad will always be the guy that skipped town and left his family. Just another missing person. But not to us. We know the truth, we know what he did to those girls and you stopped him from hurting any more.”
When her eyes find mine, they’re crammed with tears and somehow she looks older.
“I love you, Richie,” she tells me, her hands gripping at my shirt and pulling me close.
“I’m sick, aren’t I?” she whispers
“You’re gonna be fine, Mama,” I assure her, we’ve had this conversation before, she’ll have forgotten it in a few hours, and her mind will reset. But I’ll stay with her and I’ll hold her for the short time I have her back. At least this time I have something to tell her, that I hope she’ll store with the memories she keeps.
“I’m tired, Richie, will I forget all this again before I wake up?” she asks, her drained voice sounding a little hopeful.
“Yes.” I pick her up and carry her over to her bed, gently laying her out on the mattress and she smiles at me sleepily.
“I wish you could forget too,” she whispers, stroking her frail hand against my cheek, and I lay down beside her and take it in mine. “I’m not sad anymore. I have someone now. Someone who takes care of me and helps me drown out the monsters in my head. She makes me forget too,” I admit, and the smile Mama gives me makes all the pain of being here worth it.
“And I already know you’re really gonna like her.” I smile back.
“That’s such good news, darling,” she breathes, her lids flickering. “Tell me about her.”
