Family Ties

Chapter Four

When my mother was finally done with me, for the moment, she untied the gag and kissed me deeply. At that point, I was too tired and hurt to do anything to fight against it. I hadn't slept any the night before, as I'd been working, and I knew that this incident would make me lose even more rest. Which was something I'd already been in desperate need of. She untied the rest of the ropes from around me, saying something in a gentle tone (though, I was still too sick and tired to be able to make out any of what she said) before she walked back up the stairs. After a short while of trying to gather up enough semi-consciousness to stop the painful ringing in my ears, I sat up and looked down at the rag that had been used to gag me, along with the ropes piled onto the floor. The gag had a significant amount of deep red blood soaked into it, which forced me to acknowledge the taste of iron that seemed to have stained my tongue. There was also a small puddle of gore near where my head had been, soaked into the neck of my t-shirt, and matted into the lower part of my hair. My neck burned, stung slightly, so I placed my hand onto it. I was somewhat startled by the sudden warm wetness against my palm, but I knew that even as bad as it was,  it was nothing that I couldn't fix. I stood myself up slowly, taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep myself from falling unconscious.

I found my clothes in the basement, and I put them back on before I carefully walked back up the stairs, holding onto the rail very tightly to help stay standing. It felt like an eternity before I managed to make it up to the top of the stairs, and I slowly cracked the door open. It was dark besides the moonlight shining down onto the floor through the window above the sink, and it seemed like there was nobody else in the kitchen. And, so, I stepped out onto the cold kitchen tile. I took a deep breath, opening my eyes slightly and looking for my belt which was so unceremoniously tossed onto the floor a few hours prior. Being as dazed and tired as I was, it took me a little bit to realize that it wasn't where my mother had left it. I staggered forward, toward the counter to get a red rag that had been laid onto it. I pressed it against my neck hard to stop the bleeding as much as I could, closing my eyes and trying to focus. A sudden realization broke my concentration, however. As my senses started to return to normal, I was able to hear a faint, soft sobbing from the livingroom. I stumbled toward the archway to see who it was, as prepared as I could be to try to give Soda any kind of explanation as to what had happened to me.

As soon as I'd walked in, my mother looked up at me with her face red and tears running down her face. She had been sitting on the couch hunched over, sobbing into her hands, holding onto the bloody knife tightly. "Oh, sweetheart," she whimpered quietly, dropping the knife and rushing over to me, wrapping her arms around me and falling to her knees consequently pulling me down with her.

"Baby, darling, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she repeated herself, sobbing harder and pressing her forehead into my chest, hugging me tightly.

I didn't know how to reply. I never did. Whatever I said, it'd always be wrong. It'd never fix anything. So, I opted to stay quiet, instead hugging her back as tightly as I could in my current state. I felt that pit in my stomach again, that pure disgust forming into sickness, along with a sharp, painful migraine starting to set in.

"I'm sorry, you don't deserve this. You have such a terrible mother, don't you?" she stuttered through her tears, pulling her head away from my chest to look up at me expectantly.

Well, now I had to give her some sort of reply. Still, I didn't really have an answer. So, I'd decided to give her the answer that I thought she would've wanted.

My voice cracked, weak from blood-loss, pain, fear, and everything else tearing me apart slowly. "It's okay, I.. understand..." But, I didn't understand- at least, not entirely. I never could, I wasn't in her place. I don't know what she was thinking. Not what she had planned. Nothing. So, I'd just trust that she truly did have me and Soda's best interests in mind. Though, sometimes, I wasn't so sure. With that thought in mind, I pressed the rag against my neck tighter, feeling the wetness through the fabric.

"Thank you, thank you so much... I love you, so so much. Remember that, okay sweetie? Mommy loves you." her voice was quiet, weepy, a constant whimper. Filled with a sense of tenderness and grief to a degree that only she could express without showing whether it was false or not. I had always assumed that she was being honest because that's what I'd always wanted to believe. That she regret what she had done. But, if you really do regret something that much, usually you wouldn't do it over, and over, and over again.

"o-of course, mom... I.. I love you, too"

We sat there together for a long time. I don't know how long, exactly. I'd lost track of the time, having to focus all of my attention on trying to comprehend what my mother was saying and doing my best to stay as conscious as I could. She had (thankfully) finally fallen asleep there, leaning on me. I set down the rag, as I'd stopped bleeding, and I tried as hard as I could to pick her up. I barely managed to carry her over to the couch, and I laid her down on it carefully. I gently pulled the blanket up over her before I stammered away, going to the downstairs bathroom to get the first aid kit out from under the bathroom sink. I practically fell to my knees in front of that cabinet, losing my balance when stepping in. I opened the cabinet doors, pulling out the first aid kit and a mirror. I took a sewing needle and surgical sutures out from the kit before slowly, I began sewing the slice across my neck back together, threading the needle back and forth. I winced slightly at the pain, though, I was lucky- the cut wasn't as deep as it could have been. I'd been through much worse, that was nothing.

Once I'd finished sewing my throat together, I took a short shower to get the blood out from my hair and rinsed off of my skin. After that, it was already nearly time for me to head to one of my many part-time jobs, so I got dressed to head out, hurrying as best as I could. I made my way downstairs after putting fresh clothes on, and I stepped out the door, feeling light-headed. I took deep breaths, stumbling forward off of the front porch. My eyes started to blur as I staggered forward more slowly, trying to focus on getting to the car. 

Before I knew it, I had lost my balance and fell over with my vision going black.