Blurryface meets Cry Baby

The Crisis

   Cry Baby lay in bed peacefully, in a calm, deep sleep. She dreamt of moving to the quiet village that her mother grew up in. She had run away from home, and was at long last happy, but she had to change her identity so her grandparents would not realize she was there. There was something magnificent in the thrill of the rush. The dream felt like being in a small, empty glass room, and outside, chaos lived on.

   She awoke to a blue-ish light, outside her window, and an engine sound. She soon picked up that her father was in the driveway. She hoped her mother was in bed and sound asleep. It was her brother's birthday that day, and he wasn't there for it. Her mother was pleasant enough, Cry Baby couldn't complain. Her mom clearly tried her hardest to drink as little alcohol as possible, for Cry Baby's brother's sake.

She heard her front door open, and not soon after, contrary to her hopes, she heard her mother yelling. It was obvious that she had downed a few bottles of alcohol after Cry Baby and her brother went to sleep.

"I don't believe you! You, your... today was your son's birthday! Now I know you don't give a damn about me, but you wouldn't stop by to see him, you didn't send him anything, you didn't do SHIT!" Cry Baby heard a loud crashing noise. Her mother must have hit something. "And, after all that, you had the guts to come back tonight, the evening after his birthday. You just come in here tramping around with your whore! I hate you! I hate y-"

Her mother was cut off for some reason. She hoped that her father hadn't hit her, or anything else, but she couldn't be sure. She sat in bed, choking on her tears, trying to hold them back. She failed.

There was no way Cry Baby could say she had a great mom, but she could only imagine how much it must hurt. Her husband was cheating on her. Imagine the person you love deciding they preferred somebody else. It disgusted Cry Baby, and damaged her mother. Cry Baby believed that at the bottom of every bottle of alcohol, her mother was still in love. She also couldn't imagine the pain it caused her mother to go a month without seeing her husband, and for him not to show up for his own son's birthday, but to arrive at night with his mistress.

It must hurt.

Cry Baby could make out little muffles coming from the kitchen, but her bedroom was so far down the hall, the events were so suddenly quiet, and her tears were so overpowering that she couldn't hear any further activity.

Her crying slowly stopped after a while, and she heard absolutely nothing from the kitchen. She wondered if this was her chance to go and investigate.

She slipped out of bed with extreme caution, and tiptoed down the hallway, still not hearing a single thing.

But as soon as she entered the kitchen, she saw a large white sheet, with something under it, and something on top of it.

She walked over, frightened to do so. She first looked at what was on top of the sheet.

Blood? That can't be blood.

Nervous yet curious, she gently lifted the sheet. She screamed instantly. Two dead bodies, splashed with blood lay on the floor. Her father, and his mistress.

She started to topple backwards, all her blood rushing to her head, unable to go back and decide to fall back asleep instead of listening to their argument, unable to go back and decide to stay in her bed instead of go see what happened, unable to go back and decide to not look under the sheet or on top of it.

Unable to undo any of the horrific events.

Until...

Cry Baby's shrieks became muffled as she felt somebody clutch her tightly, and force some kind of cloth over her mouth. The room became foggy, and her thoughts began to fade, as she drifted into the poisonous chemical inserted into the cloth.

She awoke, sitting up in bed. Seeing her blankets and bedroom, she was convinced it was all a terrifying nightmare. But she looked to her right, and her mother was kneeled by her bed. She looked fierce and threatening as she made Cry Baby drink from a sippy cup, but her eyes said that they were sorry for everything that Cry Baby's eyes had seen.

Mid-day, Cry Baby woke up in her bed with an awful headache.

What time is it?

She thought to herself.

Why is my head throbbing so much?

And then, the one question that only Cry Baby was now unable to answer, due to the poison given to her in the sippy cup.

What happened last night?