Mr.J

Hello darkness my old friend~ here I'm up at 6 am~ fuck. Anyway hope you guys enjoy this chapter, things are finally about to ramp up in the coming chapter. (I'll leave what exactly to your imagination lol.) I still feel like it's too soon but I've decided to step fretting, this is my first attempt at writing a novel so it'll never be perfect. Also been wondering if I should add the fantasy and mystery tags to this novel lol, read closely and you'll see why, or would you guys rather I not expand this world any further though that would be boring, well I've already decided but would still like you all opinion.

John lay there, trying to orient himself. He gazed blankly at the ceiling for a few moments, and after a while, his eyes refocused. What was I dreaming about again? Huh? I don't remember??

He could not recall the end of his dream. This was normal for a lot of people, but not for John. As far back as he could remember, he could dream of just about whatever he wanted, down to the minute detail. He could also manipulate his dreams to some extent. For example, if he were disturbed while having a particularly pleasant dream, he could recall it the next time he slept and continue where he left off. Suffice it to say, forgetting a dream was not something he was used to, if ever at all.

The problem though was that he felt like he had forgotten something very important, he pulled himself up and sat on the edge of his bed.

I think I spoke to Dad, weird. John’s brows furrowed, and he felt a headache coming on, he tried to recall what happened after.

That dream was supposed to be an exact replay of what happened on that day. I was supposed to start taking the bus on my own. Dad shouldn’t have been there!  Though John could not remember all the details of that day, he would not forget that last bit. Besides, his subconscious was supposed to recall it exactly as it had happened even if he couldn’t remember. The more he thought of it the weirder he felt, a feeling of ‘wrongness’ that he couldn’t explain began to consume him.

Well, whatever. John shook his head, deciding not to dwell on it. After all, it was just a dream, and though he called it an "ability," it was simply recalling things from his day-to-day life as they had happened. It condensed a full day's worth of memories into a few hours of sleep, giving John the feeling as if he had experienced an entire day again in only a few hours.

Wait, what did Dad say again? Something about Mom doing something stupid….

"Oh shit, Mom!" John abruptly stood up, but a wave of dizziness assaulted him, causing him to fall back onto his bed as quickly as he had stood. His heart sank to his stomach at the thought of Kate. John glanced out the window from his bed; it was dark outside. He had been drifting in and out of sleep for a few days. What had she been up to? There was no way she'd simply let John waste away in his room for days if she was in the right state of mind, no matter how angry she was at him.

Shaking off the vertigo, John stood up and hurried out of his room. Glancing at Kate’s closed bedroom door, he noticed the absence of light seeping through the bottom crack. Even the hallway remained dim, amplifying the eerie silence that enveloped the house. However, that wasn’t what bothered John. Since the hallway lights were off, Kate’s bedroom lights should be visible from under the door. But they weren’t.

This seemingly trivial detail might have been overlooked and may not have mattered if it were anyone else. However, it had to do with his mother, who harbored a deep fear of the dark. She always needed a bedside lamp when going to bed; there were only a few exceptions to this rule.

1: If she slept beside someone. 

2: If she wasn’t well, mentally speaking. James was dead so that only left the latter.

John cautiously made his way over to Kate’s bedroom door, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest at any moment. He was almost afraid to look inside, fearing he might regret it forever. With a deep breath, he grabbed the knob and swung the door open in one go. A foul stench assaulted his nose as he surveyed his surroundings, Too dark, can’t see shit, he thought.

He felt for the light switch near the door and flipped it. What greeted him was Kate sitting on the bed in her underwear, a thin membrane plastered around her head, fastened around her neck by a…few zip-ties?

Beside her, a goodbye note sat on the bedside table, safely secured under a lamp. From the way the latex moved, it seemed she was breathing... wait, Is that a condom over her head??

John was quite unhinged all things considered, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions as he looked at his mother in her final moments. Despite the gravity of the situation, a part of him couldn't help but be amazed by her ingenuity. if it were not his mother sitting before him in her final moments but someone else he would have gladly laughed first before helping….probably, after all; he wasn’t one to stick his nose into people’s business. Plus he did always enjoy a good laugh.

John approached Kate and crouched down in front of her. Did she hear him enter? She flinched back as she felt his hands around her neck. John was oddly calm, though it wasn't as if he wasn't worried; on the contrary.

When he first saw Kate in this state, his mind went blank. All coherent thoughts vanished, and for a brief moment, he couldn't even think. But soon, his mind settled, and he found himself squatting in front of Kate, beginning to remove the zip-ties from around her neck.

Her arms hung defensively around her face as he reached for her neck. John noticed a few thin, red lines on her left wrist. His gaze shifted to the bedside table, where he saw a few bottles of alcohol and a small pocket knife beside the letter.

His hands never ceased moving, carefully and with oddly skillful precision, undoing zip-tie after zip-tie as he somberly spoke, "I didn’t think you had the balls." Removing the last zip tie, John wedged his fingers beneath the rubber base of the condom and stretched it as he pulled it over her head. When it reached her mouth, she latched onto his wrists with her hands, holding him in place. She shook her head from side to side silently, her will clear as day.

Shaking free of her grip, John yanked the blue condom off her head in one smooth motion. Finally free from its restraints, Kate’s greasy hair fell, scattered in clumps partially blocking her face.

She looked at John through the gaps in her hair, her lips already a shade of blue. She simply stared at him with her soulless, tear-stained eyes that seemed to beg for something… something that he couldn’t give her.

To her frustration, Kate realized that John was not going to comply with her wishes. She opened her dried, cracked lips and croaked, “Why…”

Ignoring her, John grabbed her wrist to inspect it. “Doesn’t look like you cut deep. It shouldn’t leave scars then. We’ll need to keep it moisturized though.” As he scrutinized the cuts on Kate’s wrist, her eyebrows furrowed in a tight frown.

“You’re ignoring me again? Heh, you think you’re better than me too?” Kate smiled cynically. John raised a questioning brow at her, but Kate remained silent and simply smiled.

John simply shrugged, releasing Kate’s arm as he turned his back, ready to leave. He looked over his shoulder, addressing her, “Come on, you smell disgusting, Kate. I guess I do too though.”

Kate’s frown returned, deeper than before, as she watched John's departure. Irritated, she raised her voice several octaves higher as she screeched, “ANSWER ME!”

John paused, slightly taken aback by his mother's reaction. He felt like he was seeing all the different sides of her lately. Turning around once more, he asked, “What is it, Kate?”

Hearing him, Kate chewed her lips, her face distorting in anguish. She glared at John and then looked at the desk. In the next moment, her hands moved lightning fast as she scooped up the pocket knife from the table, brandishing it at her own throat.

“What are you doing now? Cut that shit out,” John said, perturbed, as he stretched and reached for the knife, taking one step forward.

Kate took a step back, her voice trembling as she said, “Stay right there! If you don’t…”

“If I don’t what? You’ll commit your final act of selfishness and leave your son without parents? Or perhaps turn your blade against me?” John retorted dryly. “Well, whichever one, you’ll gladly leave him traumatized, won’t you? Because you've made sure to put on a show for him before,” he spoke matter-of-factly, causing uncertainty to find its way into her eyes.

“WHAT? NO! I’d never hurt you!” Kate yelled, offended he’d even think that.

“Is that so? Well, Kate, you’ve always hurt me. But I suppose I’ve got no right to judge you. After all, I was about to blow my brains out all over the bed and wall,” John added nonchalantly, causing Kate’s eyes to widen in horror and shock.

Her hands holding the knife trembled as she said, “W-What? Are you crazy?!” Kate screeched, feeling a cold, dark terror grip her heart. “Why would you do that!”

“….?” John looked at her, his expression conveying 'What the hell are you talking about?' He snorted and then asked, “What about you? Why were you about to kill yourself then?”

Kate looked down, then up at John with tears streaming down her cheeks as she rambled, “W-Well, I felt… like it was over. I was sure you were just going to leave… and never come back. Plus you said I wasn’t your mom anymore…and I was… scared, I didn’t want to be alone—”

“So you planned on killing yourself?” John interjected, finishing her words for her. Kate nodded glumly, tears overflowing from her eyes.

“You’re really a selfish person on top of being a no-good mother, you know that?” John sighed, shaking his head.

Hearing this, Kate’s face contorted even further as she spoke in a breaking voice, “I know that already! What about you? Why didn’t you do it? I had no other way!” Kate looked at John, her body shaking like a willow tree in a storm, ready to snap.

John stared into her empty, wet eyes for a moment and then said, “Well, unlike you, I actually think of the people who’d have to clean me up.” He smiled darkly and then continued seriously, “You had no other way? Nonsense! Besides, nothing good ever comes from suicide, Mom.”

When he said that, it was as if all the power had been sapped from her body. Kate's hands fell to her sides, and she swayed. Before she knew it, John was already in front of her, extending his hand and calmly saying, "Give." Kate hesitated stubbornly.

Seeing her hesitation, John gently probed, "Am I your enemy?" Kate shook her head from side to side. John pressed on, "Then are you against me?" Kate shook her head even more vigorously.

Witnessing her response, John smiled gently and continued, "Then please, Mom, give it here. You're scaring your son." After a moment of hesitation and confusion, realization dawned on Kate. She obediently placed the knife into his open palm.

John quickly stowed the knife away in his back pocket, hoping she wouldn’t attempt to grab it – God knew she was too fast for him. Stepping forward, he embraced his mother, remarking, “Damn, you really smell, Mom.” Kate buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed.

“You too...” she sniffled. As tears and snot stained his shirt, John felt the urge to cry as well.