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.

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for love or money

His head spun his skin grew hot. Misery clawed at his heart and choked his throat, forcing his eyes to well, his stomach to heave. He fell to his knees and scrambled for a rubbish bin to vomit in.

“It’s all gone” he thought through fat sobs.

He had wanted to fall in love again for 10 years, a desperate shell with a rusting heart, clinging to hope so it would not slip away from him. His wife would want him to move on, he knew, and it had been so long since her passing, but how could he even begin? His friends suggested an agency, since speed dating and “just meeting people” were absolutely off the cards. He could never convince any woman to date him without some outside help. So he searched for and found one.

The dating agency set him up with a lady named Lily. He had paid a huge fee for the guarantee of a match, as it was something he could not resist. She had indeed been ideal. Charming. Beautiful. Funny. Youthful….. Perfect. He could not wipe the smile from his face after their very first meeting.

His infatuation with her took hold, the heady feeling of being in love swallowed him, he was desperate to feel it forever. The agency could take care of the wedding plans, it was agreed, for a fee…

But then she disappeared without a trace. Leaving him devastated and sleepless with concern for her safety and his near breaking heart. The agency would head an investigation for him. For a lot more money…

It had gotten away from him so quickly that he now found himself bankrupt. All his money was gone, and so was Lily.

He guessed she had been a figment of his desperation all along.

This is from a news headline. I would like to add that the man in this story was taken for over $3million. A court has ordered the “agency” and woman to return it to him.

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.

the coma

Silently she sits, never leaving the bed, his tiny, fragile hand resting limp in her own. All she wishes for is a squeeze, a wiggle or a flinch of an eyelid. Machines and tubes keep her little boy breathing. Fat tears freely fall, crashing heavy as her heart to the floor as she stares at him.

Fixates on him.

Looking for something she wills to find but can not see.

Her husband is at her back, resting a palm on her shoulder. The weight is too much and she swipes herself away. His touch is toxic. His presence unbearable.

It was an accident. An accident.

Perhaps if her little boy wakes she could fight to forgive her husband. She wants to believe it, but somehow is certain that day will never, ever come.