Post natal disturbance

I hope you had a nice chuckle at my last post  because you may find this one disturbing. Consider this fair warning.

Their nursery bathes in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. I watch the impostors as they sleep, my shirt rigid from months of tears, my fragile mind crumbling in my dusty skull. They have sucked me dry and left me void, those greedy little leeches, how could they possibly be my sons?

I sit for an age, huddled in a shadowed corner, afraid to touch any of their belongings. They would be so mad at me if I touched their things.

Awake seconds apart, they begin to cry out for me. The noise of their shrill, demanding screams drills angrily into my head. I crawl into their closet for refuge and close the door behind me. Burying my head in my arms and rocking quietly in the darkness, I “shush” myself until calmness comes.

Time passes by, how much I can not say and the noise outside stops. I cautiously open the door and approach the boys’ cribs. They smile and laugh at me, tormenting me, I yell at them to stop being so awful, so evil. I fantasize about throwing them hard against the nearest wall and leaving them in a heap on the ground. Panic strikes, forcing my throat to burn and my head to spin. I turn and run for the phone to call my husband.

“It’s happening again” I whisper into the receiver. “I need to see a doctor!! I need some medication”.

“You know my family don’t believe in medicating” he told me. “Trust in our Lord and he will get you through”.

He swiftly hung up on me as he always does. The shun paralyses me. I let the receiver fall to the floor while reality slips away.

I sit soaking wet on cold tiles, hugging my knees as I stare at water dripping from my overfilled bathtub. I don’t need to peer over the edge to know what is in there. The house is so dark, so still and eerily quiet. I just sit in a catatonic state, waiting for someone to come and get me and take me away.

Advertisements

a noose to hang

This is a true story….

He hadn’t wanted to go into that shed so late in the cold and cursed his mother for not bringing in firewood before she went out. Where was she anyway?! It was too late for a school night. He cursed her over and over until he opened the shed door and jumped at the sight of her figure in the darkness. He fumbled for the light switch.

She had left herself for them to find in agonizingly plain sight, hanging, frozen in death. Her pale face obscured by her auburn hair, her hands, oddly, in her pockets. There was no mystery in her final moments, and no cushioning the blow for her son when he found her.

For a long while he stood, unable to move or breathe or comprehend what his eyes were telling him was real. Finally he snapped and moved to her to save her, to let her breathe and bring her back. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted, easing the tension in the rope, but there was no great gasp for air. With her chest resting on his head he listened for even the faintest sign of her beating heart. Begged for it.

Nothing.

He fell to the floor with a sickening wail, her feet dangling at his head, tears and spit spilling freely to the cold concrete. He felt himself lose touch as he struggled to breathe. Everything spun in his mind, then went black.

His father told him later he had fainted right there underneath her. An ambulance had taken him, but had left his mother where she hanged.

She had not left a note.

a crush on my son’s friend

This story is inspired by the headline “Sexting mum ordered off the web” from the ninemsn Australia news website.

My heart is racing, I can’t  take my eyes off his text.

“Y dnt u pxt them 2 me? ;)”

My husband is snoring. Good. He is a ridiculously heavy sleeper. Once our smoke alarm went off and he didn’t even stir as I got up to turn it off and check on the kids. The rat bags were making toast.

I locate the photos in question on my phone. I’m completely naked, draped over my bed. Nothing too lewd, hopefully sexy. One is only of my tits. I’ll let him see that one first.

Blood thuds in my ears, among other places.  I glance at my husband again. No movement.

Send. Send. Send.

I giggle to myself then wait nervously for a reply. Ten whole minutes pass.

He doesn’t like it, does he? I frown, then start to panic, I’ve made a huge mistake!

My phone lights up.

“Wow ur so hot Ms B”

Thank. God.

“Aw you’re sweet” I reply ” Tomorrow when you get home from school I want one of you. Make sure you’re rock hard for me baby”

Let’s see what he’s packing.

Perhaps that’s a bit too far. But my god, he’s so gorgeous! And incredibly mature for 16.  My son bought him home a fortnight ago after school so they could work on something or other for science. He flirted with me, not outrageously, but enough to make me well aware of his interest. I was flattered.

Crushes develop so quickly, don’t they?

And for now I guess it’s so far, so harmless.

the night I hit and ran

I’d had a couple of bourbons to try and calm down. They didn’t work. I missed Quaaludes. The compulsion to rush home was too strong. I just had to yell and scream at  her. And remind her exactly where she stood.

A light drizzle fell on my windscreen. How annoying. I wanted an earth-shaking, ear-splitting, nerve-rattling storm.  Not bloody spittle.

Then it flitted into the corner of my eye. A fixed mouth, a frozen stare. It cracked my windscreen and went over the roof of my car. My brakes locked and I skidded to a stop.

A twisted heap in my rear-view mirror.

Blonde hair glowing under street-light.

3 deep breaths.

2 kilometers to my house.

1st gear.

After that I stayed within the speed limit.