Lyrical Short Stories: Volume I

I Have 7 Mums

"Impossible for me to tell (we're always walking on eggshells) who you're going to be from day to day" from I Don't Think I Love You by Hoobastank.

I have seven mums. Not one, seven. I don't know who my real mum is. You could say I have one for each day of the week, but that's not technically true. Sometimes one mum will stay for a few days, sometimes weeks, or there will be three of my mums in a day. In other words, it varies on which mum I have. It's impossible for me to tell.

Dad struggles sometimes and has to ask my brother and I for help. He says we can handle it now because we're old enough, but I don't think so. We have to give different medication to each of my mums and it gets confusing sometimes. One mum will be as good as gold and the other will be a terror. Once, Mum 5 mixed her medication with my other mums' medication and almost overdosed. Luckily my brother came into the room just in time. It's full time work looking after our mums. We take days off school so that Dad can work to be able to pay the bills and feed all of us.

Our family doesn't help us; we haven't seen them in four years. For four years we've had to struggle on our own, and Dad refuses to get other sources of help. I don't see why not but Dad's word is always final. It's a pain looking after her by ourselves, but my brother and I have got used to it. They are our mum's after all.

THURSDAY, 3.00AM

I've had to wake up to Mum 1 rocking me back and forth complaining that she needs a glass of water and she can't sleep. According to my brother it's my turn to attend to her, so I slowly pull back the covers while Mum 1 jumps up and down telling me to hurry up. Then she runs out of the bedroom door when I stand up. Like a zombie, I walk out of the bedroom, pass Dad's bedroom from which loud grunt like snores erupted, down the stairs and into the kitchen. I switched the light on blinding myself for a few moments and walked over to the cupboard to get a glass for Mum 1. I call for her but she doesn't answer, and I turn around to see her curled into a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth. I assess her behaviour and come to the conclusion that it's Mum 6.

"Here you go Mum," I say passing the glass to her. Like a cat she focuses her vision onto it and swipes it out of my hand. It creates a loud crashing sound against the wall, and hearing it she hides behind my legs. My mistake, it's Mum 5.

"It's okay Mum, that was my fault, stay there, I'll clear up the glass."

She does as she's told and stays put. After I clear the broken glass I ask her if she still wants some water and she shakes her head. "Shall we go back to bed then?" I ask, patronising her. I hated doing that, but sometimes it was necessary. She nodded her head slightly and crawled up the stairs and straight into her room. I followed slowly, still half asleep, and closed her door after catching a glimpse of her curled up on the windowsill.

MONDAY, 11.00AM

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! I'M 17! I CAN WHATEVER I LIKE! YOU CAN'T CONTROL ME!"

"Honey, please calm down-"

"SHUT UP! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME AND WHAT I'M GOING THROUGH!"

Mum 3 is still here. She's been here since Friday. She's starting to get on our nerves now. We've never had her this long. It's more common to have Mum 5, but recently she hasn't been around as much. It's a shame cause she's one of my favourites.

"Sweetie quiet, you'll disturb the neighbours-"

"FUCK 'EM! I DON'T CARE WHAT THEY THINK!"

CRASH! My brother and I sprint to the kitchen to find that Mum 3 had smashed the milk bottles from the fridge and other jars in her anger. We began to clear it up when Mum 3 kicked me hard in the stomach.

Dad shouted at her and she shouted back then ran out of the door. They went after her and I leant on the closed fridge door, not caring that I was sitting in the liquid. I held back the tears that desperately wanted to escape down my cheeks and I continued clearing the mess on the floor.

A few hours had passed before Mum 3 was dragged into the house and locked in her room.

TUESDAY, 4.00PM

Mum 3 finally went and was replaced by Mum 6. Thankfully, it gave us all some piece and quiet and allowed us to relax. But even then we would still worry about her because she was so silent. It worries us a lot. Sometimes when she stares into space it looks like she's not breathing. Then we have to carefully put a mirror in front of her face to check. Sometimes she gets startled at her own reflection and freaks out; it's the only mirror in the house now.

TWO WEEKS LATER, MIDNIGHT

Its been a nice break for us these past couple of weeks. Its been a game of tennis between Mum 6 and Mum 2; some days she's been forgetful as if she's had bad amnesia, other days she's been silent.

The clock struck midnight. Both Mum 4 and 7 erupted and all hell broke loose. Mum 4 is depressed and suicidal, and Mum 7 is a violent alcoholic. I think we woke up the whole neighbourhood with the screaming, shouting, and crashing of ornaments. People have learnt to accept it though so they don't come round anymore trying to break the door down.

These Mums are the worst combination that could ever happen and it's only happened once which ended in me and my brother having stitches and Dad in a coma for six weeks. That was two years ago.

Mum 4 and 7 had somehow found the knives we hid and she started slashing her arms and wrists. Screaming that she wanted to die because she didn't belong in this world, and that everyone thought her a freak. Dad told us to get back and that he would handle this. I screamed to my brother as he ran for Mum 4 and 7, and she slapped his face and pushed him against the wall, holding him by the throat, and pointing the bloody kitchen knife at him. He looked at me for comfort and tears ran down my eyes. I wanted to help him but I was rooted to the spot, I couldn't move!

Everything was happening so fast, and it all seemed like a blur.

Dad freed my brother from Mum 4 and 7's grasp and he ran over to me.

I held him tightly and pressed his face into my chest telling him not to look.

Sirens could be heard outside.

I watched Dad struggle with Mum 4 and 7 and the knife.

I watched as her eyes became lifeless and lusted for blood as she pressed the knife into Dad's stomach.

I screamed.

"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!"

DAYS HAVE PASSED

Mum's been put into a special hospital where she has her own room that can only be opened and locked from the outside. She's being given strong and proper medication. The doctors say it will take years before she is able to walk amongst civilians safely. They told us that we could visit her once she becomes stable and that it could be as often as my brother and I liked.

I was happy for a moment, happy that we could finally have our real Mum back. That we could be a family again. My brother wiped away tears from his cheeks.

If only Dad were here to experience this with us.