One Shots

Ghorror

Dedicated to burnyourlocalchurch and their lovely friend who requested this bad boy. Enjoy!

“You're no son of mine.” Her words cut through my mind like the blade of a butcher knife. “Your son is going to hell.” They lingered in the outskirts of my thoughts like sharks waiting for prey.

My body felt like hell. I couldn't force myself to eat without getting sick from the thought of putting on anymore weight. I resembled a whale, it was a wonder my husband even bothered staying with me. I just wanted to feel beautiful again. All I had done was post a picture of myself with my makeup and hair done to facebook. Ricky insisted that putting myself back out there would help me feel better. After all, the fans and our friends had been eager to hear from me after almost two weeks of bedrest and a water birth.

Looking back, the birth was the easy part.

My mother had commented on the picture less than a minute after I had posted, demanding to know why I didn't call her for the birth. I explained to her that Ricky and I had delivered our son at home, the natural way, and she flipped a shit.

“You could have killed my grandson, you moron!” I tangled my hands in my dreadlocks in frustration, pulling at the roots to ease my inner suffering with the physical pain. “When will you ever think of someone other than yourself?” I was driving myself insane.

She was right. I am selfish. My head has been consumed with thoughts of my body and my appearance. Maybe I am just a whore.

I slammed my head against the bedroom wall, biting down on my fist to stop a sob from escaping and possibly waking the sleeping angel downstairs.

I had gotten so lucky. He slept so much. I wish I could sleep half as much as he could. His sapphire eyes were so full of life whenever he woke up, and he would always reach up to touch my face in the most precious way only babies knew how. He took the life out of me, but I couldn't complain, it looked far better in his gurgling baby face than it ever had in mine.

My frown deepened as I ghosted a hand over my chest, feeling how flat it still remained, even after having a baby. I was never able to properly breastfeed, and it killed me. What kind of mother couldn't provide the bare necessities to their own child?

The ache in my chest was becoming too much. I needed everything to slow down. My eyes shot towards the bathroom.

I didn't realize that I had been moving until my skin hit the edge of the bathtub. I crumpled to the ground and cried in sheer agony. The physical pain was the last straw. My body was too sensitive. I knew I was overreacting. I needed something to numb the pain.

A drink? Ricky doesn't let any alcohol into the house. Our cabinets were void of anything even mildly intoxicating.

A cigarette? Ricky just stopped smoking. He threw away his last pack before Maddox was born.

I screamed, slamming a fist down onto the tile in my fit.

“You're a cold hearted bitch.” I froze. Cold hearted. Cold. Cold. Ice. I smiled in satisfaction, crawling on my hands and knees to the door with a goal finally on my mind.

I let myself tumble down the stairs, crying for a moment in a heap at the bottom of the stairs in my own pathetic pity party.

I wanted to be good enough for them. I wanted my mom to visit Maddox and get to fall in love with the way his gummy smile infected an entire room. I wanted Ricky to be able to show us off at concerts and parties. I wanted him to think I'm worth loving again. I wanted Maddox to grow up and not be embarrassed to bring his friends home or tell me when something happens at school.