Mr.J

Here I am...up again at 4 am ugh. I need to get my sleep schedule under control, I'll die young at this rate. Anyway here's the chapter I promised, problem though. This turned out longer than it should have been, to not compromise the next chapter (which is very important) I may push the next chapter back till Sunday or even Monday cuz my schedule ain't looking too kind, tell me below.

They locked eyes in a fierce standoff, neither willing to yield. With determination, John proclaimed, "I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" Next, he lightly bit into Kate's hand before darting away.

"Sugar, come back!" Kate's voice held a mix of irritation and suppressed laughter from his actions that only she would find charming.

“NEVER!” John’s legs kicked into overdrive as he attempted to make his escape up the stairs. But reality quickly set in as he realized he wasn't going anywhere despite his strenuous efforts. Also, the floor looked further away than usual.

Glancing back, John discovered Kate effortlessly holding him aloft by the arms. Flustered and indignant, he squirmed and kicked in vain, suspended in midair. "You crazy bitch, put me down!" Realizing that his glorious plans of escaping weren't going as he envisioned, John turned to Kate, spewing vitriol.

"Why are you soooo cute, bad boy!" Kate squealed at John’s antics, completely charmed by his adorable defiance. She buried her face in his unruly hair, taking a big whiff before saying, "Mmm, this hair definitely needs a wash and a trim!"

Upon hearing this, a look of horror washed over John's face. "NO, I don't want to! You let shampoo get in my eyes last time!" John's sobs became almost genuine as he protested, "And...how are you going to cut my hair? The barber's too far, and I have school!"

Kate paused, still holding John close. Gently turning him to face her, she pulled him into a comforting embrace, whispering, "Don't cry, baby, shhh... Mommy is sorry. We won't go to Aunt Rachel's, okay? Mommy doesn’t like her either, so don't cry. What will you do if everyone sees you crying on the first day?"

Kate comforted John the best she knew how and even threw in a deterrent. She knew John was very picky about others seeing him cry or babied, especially his peers. She remembered the incident when she had called out to him, referring to him as ‘Pumpkin’ in front of the school gate when he left something behind in the car. Later that day he scolded her, telling her to never do that again.

As if it were all a lie, John became energized and animated once more. "Really? For real? Ok, no takebacks. Let me go shower real quick, put me down!" John eagerly agreed to his mother's terms... well, most of them.

But Kate caught on quickly. "Nuh uh uh, don't forget about your hair, Mister," she interjected, seeing through John's attempt to evade.

"Aw, Mom, I'll just wash it myself, trust me," John protested, pouting with his bottom lip protruding. He wouldn't dare act like this in front of anyone else, not even his dad – not that it would work – but with Kate? It had a success rate of 90%, the other 10% only failing if his well-being was at stake. Not that he understood statistics.

"No, not that, I mean your haircut," Kate clarified.

Kate hummed as she carried John down the corridor towards the bathroom, still holding him in her arms. “Ugghh, How’s it gonna get cut now? School? did you forget?” John said hopefully. 

Still humming, Kate reassured him, "Don't worry, Mommy's got you covered, sweetie. I'll do it for you." She winked at John, trying to reassure him as she planted a kiss on his forehead, though for John, it was anything but reassuring.

For the first time, a look of genuine panic flashed across his face. Mom's going to do it? Klutzy Kate? Nooo!

Summoning all the power he could muster, he twisted his body kicking Kate in the pussy, but at the last moment, he slowed his foot.

“Kyaaa, JOHN!” Kate shrieked, releasing him as her feet buckled, causing her to slump to the floor with a thud.

Thump thump thump thump. Kate looked up as she heard the sounds of tiny feet rushing up the stairs. “John, come back here! I’ll tell Daddy if you don’t!”

Suddenly, the thumping ceased, and after a few moments, it resumed. But this time, instead of growing distant and fainter, it grew louder, and John reappeared in front of her, wearing a pout.

Kate stood up, placing her hands on her hips, and smirked at John. This was her trump card, and it had a 100% success rate. However, she disliked using it, as John would ignore her for a day or two afterward, which was unbearable for the doting mother.

The two stood off as if preparing for their final showdown – Kate with her hands on her hips and John with his arms folded. They glared at each other, the intensity in their eyes rising. The atmosphere crackled with tension, or at least as much tension as a 7-year-old and a dainty 5'4" woman could produce.

As the standoff seemed endless, a crack started to appear in Kate’s facade. Anxiousness crept in – it was getting late, and John still hadn't showered or eaten... wait, eaten? “Oh no, the eggs!”

Kate whirled around and practically teleported into the kitchen. Slightly startled by Kate's sudden outburst, John followed behind her. Upon entering the kitchen, he immediately caught the acrid scent of smoke.

John's expression fell. “Oh no, look at what you did, Klutzy Kate,” he exclaimed, placing his hands on his head and shaking it theatrically as he wailed.

Chaos ensued as Kate swiftly removed the flaming, smoking skillet from the stove and hurriedly shoved it under the running faucet. Steam and oil sprayed everywhere, eliciting a shriek from her.

“Mom!” John rushed to his mother, clinging to her dress as he looked at her with concern. Kate frantically fanned the smoke, and soon enough, it died down.

“Mom, are you okay?” John looked up at his mother, anxiety written all over his face. He was afraid she might have been hurt.

“Mmm, Mommy's okay, just a bit worried Daddy will scold her for pouring oil down the sink again,” she reassured him, but her tone betrayed her slight unease. “But other than that, I’m fine. See?” She made a show of twisting her body to demonstrate that she wasn't burnt, hoping to calm him.

John nodded, though he seemed unconvinced. Sensing his lingering concern, Kate lifted him up once more and asked, “What's wrong, honey? You can tell me anything.” John pouted and buried his head in her chest, saying, “It’s my fault you were almost burnt. Sorry, Mommy, I’m sorry.” His shoulders shook as his sobs escaped, crying for real this time.

Kate's heart ached as she tried to console him, using every trick she knew, but nothing seemed to work this time. Amidst showering his head with kisses, she heard the front door swinging open.

Walking out with John in her arms, she peeked and saw a man at the door. John pulled away from her to get a better look at the intruder, and his eyes brightened, shining like stars as he exclaimed, “Dad!”

The man had raven-black hair and a scruffy face, his tall, imposing figure dressed in a black suit with matching dress shoes. It reminded John of characters from mafia shows. Strangely, John couldn't make out the man’s facial features beyond his five o'clock shadow; however, he just knew it was his father, here to pick him up. But wait... his father had said he’d take the bus this semester.

Confusion gripped John. Huh? Dad is dead though…weird… how is he here? Suddenly a feeling of wrongness struck John. His father couldn’t be here…unless he fell asleep with the gun still in his hands and pulled it on accident, wait, fell asleep? Was... he was dreaming?

“That’s right, John, you’re asleep. Time to wake up. Your mother needs you now, quickly!” Suddenly, John heard his father’s voice echoing in his head like thunder. Startled, he jumped out of Kate’s arms, and in the next moment, everything around him seemed illusory as he started to come back to his senses.

Oh, right… this is a dream… A sinking feeling threatened to stifle him; he always hated this part of dreams. They always ended just when it was getting good. Still, he was happy to see his father, even if just in a dream. Turning his head, he saw that everything around him had faded to black, his mother nowhere to be found.

Only his father stood in front of him, his back to the open door that seemingly floated in the void, letting in a blinding light. “Wake up John, go to your mother, also, fuck her.”

John, who was about to rush to his father, paused. “P-Pardon me?” He had to have misheard; it sure sounded like his dad just told him to...

“No, you didn’t mishear you dumbass. Why are you so slow? You let some guy come into your house, fuck your mother, eat your food, and to add insult to injury you got chased out of your own home. Even after you found the pistol I left for you…ugh.” The man mocked him, sounding exasperated as he massaged his temples.

John stood there in utter disbelief, “Anyway, for the last time, go to your mother now, before she does something utterly stupid. Also, what you did was sassy as fuck you little bitch. If you were so pissed from reading her diary you should've just pushed her down, that bastard’s already dead, unfortunately”

“W-what?” John couldn’t believe what he was hearing, one thing was for sure though, this had to have been a dream, he never heard his dad speak like this….at least he thought so, he wasn’t too sure anymore.

“W-W-Why the fuck are you stuttering and just standing there? Instead of fucking her, you let that mop bucket bitch bring home some fucking pot belly worm that looks like he swallowed a fucking rock, goddamnit, wake up!”

Abruptly, the man brandished a gun, its barrel pointed directly at John. In the final fleeting moment, all John registered was the sharp crack of gunfire.

“Fuck!” With a startled shout, John was jolted awake, tumbling off his bed and landing hard on the floor, face first.