Peter Sutcliffe Murdered My Mother

Chapter Two: The Man In Orange

Twenty minutes past and I was still standing, with trousers and pants around my ankles, still thinking apart my fucking bother.

I looked in the mirror until I couldn't identify who I was looking at. 'Benjamin, Dinner!' shouted my mother from the bottom of the stairs. 'Coming Mother' I shouted back, pulling up my trousers and my pants. I grab a towel and place it over my lap as I walked down the stairs and into the dining room.

My mother was sitting down at the table starting away at her vegatian burgers, or what I like to call shtty cardboard. She looked up and saw the towel that I was holding to my crouth area. 'Jesus, Benjamin,' she said, spitting food into her wine class, 'you don't have an erection? Do you?' I looked confused at first but then relised I had a thick towel covering my penis. 'No, oh no, fuck no...' I said. 'Language' she said, interupting me mid-flow. 'Sorry, I couldn't change my trouser and I am still very much wet' I said, sitting down at the table.

She looked at me with a worring look. 'Mother, is everything okay mother?' I said, with the same look of worry in my eyes. 'What ever happens to me, look after tommy and yourself.' She said, getting up from the table and putting her napkin on top of her plate. 'Mother' I said worryingly, raising off the table aswell. She step back futher into the shadow, repeating the same word: Orange. 'Mother?' I said. A man appeared behind mother, dressed all in orange. I stopped walking foward and just stared at this man. 'Sorry' mother said, once more before being gagged by the orange man. 'Get the fuck off my mother.' I said reaching for the nearest thing I could find: a fork. He stopped and dropped mother to the floor. He walked up to me and whispered in my ear something so genty, it was barely translatable. 'What' I said, puffing out my chest, trying to look intimidating. He turned and said, 'you know what I said, son.'