apple seeds & cyanide

★ fruit of thy womb

Billy crowds himself into the corner of the wall besides his parents bedroom careful as to not be seen- heard. He knows he shouldn't be here, in his house especially not in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday he should be in theater class right now. He should be exchanging stupid remarks with his best friend Stu macher,he shouldn't be here. He knows he shouldn't be here but there's another person he knows that shouldn't be here as well, Maureen Prescott and his father.

His father should be knee deep in a case right now not knee deep in Maureen Prescott. Billy fumes and he can't seem to see anything but red and the edges of his vision darkens. Billy doesn't know what has come over him but the sounds coming off of Maureen are anything but confirmation that the slut laying in the same bed as his mother doesn't deserve to be taking her place let alone be fucked in her place.

Billy not knowing what to do storms off in the opposite direction of where his father and a slut lay. For some reasons the only thing that comes to his 16 year old mind is to call his mother let her know that his father is a cheater and say fuck his father, Maureen Prescott, and Woodsboro and leave with her. There's no room for either of them in this fucked up town and he knows that, his mother deserves better than whatever she has in Woodsboro. He knows that and he wants it for her, he loves her.

The buttons are pressed and the dial tone rings and for a second he thinks his mother isn't going to answer, he's scared she won't. "Billy?" Thank fuck she did. Billy is speechless for a moment relief drips into his anger and for a moment the sound of his mother's voice almost soothes him. "Billy, is everything alright?" Then it snaps like a thin rubber band, oh.

"Uh yeah-h momma..." He shakes and suddenly he's 11 again and he's scratched himself when climbing down a tree waiting for a scolding from his father. Oh his father that's why he called. He takes a a sharp breath and listens for any sudden sounds on his side of things, there aren't any and he continues. "Actually no, not everything's alright-" here it goes, "uhm I came home from school early today because we got- I got out early- anyways and I notice dads car is is in the driveway and yeah... Well I get inside to see why he's home so uh erm early and I hear him in your bedroom and..." Shit he's choking up, he hears shoes scuff and other nurses shuffling between and behind his mom- shes probably still in a shift she hums telling him to continue he does. "And I also heard Maureen Prescott."

He hears the line drop and he pulls the receiver from his ear it's dead, his momma hung up on him he's scared. He freezes and time stills and he doesn't notice the voices and noises that stop coming from upstairs anymore he doesn't even notice his father coming down the stairs he doesn't notice when Maureen leaves through the back he doesn't notice when the front door slams open and shut he doesn't notice that his mother is standing beside him until he feels her hand on his shoulder closer to the back of his neck, she rubs soft strokes up and down like she did when he was younger so he'd sleep faster.

His momma's back and she's next to him and she's caressing him and she loves him. "No- I will not stay here any longer Hank!" Suddenly Billy is tossed back into the cold water that is life and he starts to feel his lungs fill up he's starting to drown. Billy's eyes snap up and he steps away from his mother's touch and watches her hand move back to her side leaving a trail of fire tingling down his shoulder and arm. What? What does his momma mean? Will she leave him? Does she love him?

"Then leave!" No no no momma please stay Billy prays to the ground at his feet, his eyes have gone back to their resting position- the floor. "I don't care where you go- just get out and take your faggot son for all I care!" Billy is cold and his mother doesn't answer, at least not with words she just pulls his head up with a hook of her finger tilts her head so she can kiss him on the cheek, a hot coal on his freezing skin. She smiles a ghostly smile and he can't seem to recognize the women Infront of him any longer for her eyes are hallow and black and the smile she wears is anything but motherly- it's haunting.

Billy doesn't cry as this ghost of his mother takes her bags at her sides and stalks out the house and for better or for worst this town because the door shuts behind her and so does her image.

Billy stands there in that puddling standing posting for what he thinks is five or so minutes but when he looks up at the grandfather clock across the room it's already past three, about two hours since he had originally got home and about and hour since his mother had taken herself from his life.

Standing soon gets tiring and soon so does being curled up on the hardwood floor of his living room and when he's just plain fucking tired he gets up to go to his room but trying to fall asleep gets tiring as well, god he's just fucking tired.

Billy throws his shoes on, having never changed out of his jeans, grabs a coat and throws it on. It's dark when Billy exists through his bedroom window dropping down from the second story and onto the damp grass below him, its impulsive but definitely not out of character for him. Billy just feels sad and he knows doing something impulsive and stupid will make him feel a little less sad or so he hopes.

His feet take him somewhere that feels distant and looking around he notices he's in a forest of some kind, if not a forest at least somewhere woodsy. He smiles as he notices smaller things around him like worms that have come out of the dirt due to recent rains or flys that seem to buzz extra loud to his left.

Billy looks up from the scattered worms tossed around and tangled Infront of his shoe and starts to look around for what's causing the flies to rant so loud. He immediately looks to his left, where he originally heard the sound come from and heads in that direction.

It's a small trek and he is pleased with himself somewhat as the buzz gets closer. Moving over a small log and through some brush he stops, his curiosity from the buzzing gets halted and so do his muscles.

Looking down Billy isn't surprised at what he sees more so fascinated. A chewed up, ripped and mangled fox lays dead at his feet it's guts sprayed out into small pieces all around it. Billy picks up a near by stick one that's not too long and begins to poke at the carcass flipping over and stewing it's guts around and in the end lazily placing them back into the fox's open chest.

Billy is pleased with his work and comforted at the sight of the dead fox once only mangled by nature now mangled by his hands, Billy is pleased Billy is powerful.

So he shucks the stick back into the foliage beneath him and stalks off. Billy doesn't look back at the dead fox but still thinks about how it looked so helpless and dead something he wants to see more often something he knew that was possible.

Billy Loomis has an idea.