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A nuclear family

We got to the kitchen and well. I couldn't help be bug-eyed, in all honesty. There was a seven foot tall robot, just chilling out in the kitchen, wearing an apron that said 'kiss the chef', jeans, a pink tshirt, a little chef hat. If I had gone insane before, I was absolutely losing my mind right now.

Sullivan however, was confused as to me suddenly stopping. We were trespassing in some robo man's house oh my god. Is he gonna press robo charges? Is the robo a he?? Oh my god oh my god oh my g- "Mute, why'd we stop?" She asked,the robots attention now on us.

"Oh! Kids! Back from playing outside I see." The robot said, laughing heartily. Sullivan's jaw dropped, probably not knowing how to respond either.

"I uh, yes ma'am...?" She attempted, trying to play along. I was deeply weirded out. It wasn't just me though, was it? I hoped not.

"What about your sibling, are they okay? And don't ma'am me young one." The robot asked, putting down it's spatula to gesture at me. Wait what am I? Who am I?! I need answers god damn it.

"Uhhh.... Yup." Sullivan agreed. "Quick question. Who are you?" She asked. The robot looked hurt, if that's even possible.

"Why! I am your mother! I know everything about you!" She explained. I quirked my eyebrows, intrigued. "Yes, even you, Smith." She said, patting my head gently. Smith. Must be my last name, huh? "Now, go play upstairs, take McCoy, too." I backed up, carefully making sure Sullivan did too, all the way back to the living room.

Welp. This was weird. And I still didn't like this. This weird feeling of dread was just, sitting in the middle of my stomach.

"We... Have a mom." Sullivan mumbled. "Or this robot is insane." She said, rambling idly to me. We reached the boy again- er. Well. McCoy, I guess.

I let go of Sullivan, fumbling for paper and pen again. God, there has be an easier way. I need to find something sharp, cut the stitches that force my mouth close. How would I eat otherwise? Or drink? Liquids are probably easier then food, but still. It's highly impractical to not try and fix this at some point. My mind wandered like this for a bit, until I sufficiently wrote my message down.

Then it was an awkward three way conversation, from me, Sullivan, and McCoy. These barriers were wasting time. It was so unbearably annoying.

"There was a robot saying it was our mom." Sullivan said casually.

Scribble scribble scribble.

"Mombot, what do you mean mombot?" He asked.

"A robot. That said it was our mom. We gotta go upstairs now." Sullivan said.

Scribble scribble scribble.

"Why are we listening?" McCoy asked. ...He had a point. Why are we listening? Sullivan shrugged.

"I dunno. Seemed chill." She answered. McCoy looked like he was about to blow a fuse when I wrote that down. "Besides she's making food. Smelled yummy. We can at least humor her, yeah?" She said, before tacking on. "Oh. Your name's McCoy, by the way. They're Smith. They're boring." She declared jokingly, before holding her hand out to me. I quickly scribbled that down for McCoy.

She called me boring then expects me to escort her? ... She's lucky that she's right about that.

We head upstairs, and my hand idly feels the stitches on my mouth. It was like... They'd been there for a very long time, to the point where they almost felt gone. But not entirely.

I headed us towards a bedroom upstairs, noticing that McCoy was right behind us. Guess he did like being with us. Or maybe just didn't want to face the robot alone.

We sat in the room, but everything looked weird and distorted for a bedroom. The door was a bit too tall for any human, but also askew. It bothered me to look at, so I put my gaze on the floor. Grey, cold, and almost metallic looking. Tile? Maybe. Maybe they used actual metal though. I wasn't sure. There were two beds, one of which Sullivan and I sat on. They were stiff to the touch, but looked like sheet metal. Factory like, almost. The walls had all types of photos, blurry and out of focus, of seemingly random children.

It took me a moment to notice one of those kids was me, probably before all this. I tried to pull my new friend's attention to it, but they looked at me like I was insane. "Yes. It's a picture mom put up." McCoy said, voice unusually calm.

In all the few hours I've known him, there was always a slight anger and hurt to his voice. It baffled me that he could sound calm.

I shook my head, trying to pull myself out of my head before I spiraled again. Mom? I tried to write him a question, but he practically ignored it. Going, "Aw, cool, kiddo," and not really looking.

Something weird was happening, I felt like I was losing my mind. My head hurt, and I couldn't place why, other than maybe stress. I quickly shook Sullivan a bit, about to try and ask if she felt similar. She just giggled, and patted my head.

"Hey, don't worry. Dad will be home soon, and Mom will finish dinner." She said, voice sounding sickly sweet. My eyes went wide, trying to pull together theories of why this was happening.

Then I noticed the final, off putting, weird feature of the room. The door had sealed behind us, with a tiny, bright green light now on above the askew doorframe.

This room was, this room was influencing us somehow. I frantically started to search, but, as I did the room faded into a much more comforting looking place. Soft carpet. Soft, red beds. The pictures melted into normal family photos of us and the robots.

Robots? Why'd I say robots? They were nice, lovely parents. Our parents. We were a nice, happy, family. Completely standard.

The mom had silky blonde hair, that flowed into curls at the bottom. Her eyes were the deepest blue I've ever seen. And she was smiling, oh so nicely. And she wore a pink little dress, with flowers on it. Her hand was on Sullivan's shoulder.

The father looked stern, but also nice and normal. Blonde hair, brighter blue eyes. A white collared shirt, black tie, black dress pants, and smart looking glasses. He was holding McCoy's shoulder, tightly.

I was in between the two in the picture, the youngest. We stood, smiling, looking picture perfect. We are picture perfect after all.

The perfect family.