Creepy Pasta

Sorry

Sorry

It was a morning in November, 1989. The cold wind softly brushed against my face as I awoke. I sat up and swung my neck from side to side in an attempt to crack it, as it always felt stiff first thing in the morning. I swore I heard my mother's voice, yet I couldn't hear what she said. But it sure woke me up. I made my way out of my bedroom, heading to the kitchen where I assumed she'd be, like the beginning of every other day.

In the kitchen, my mother was doing the dishes, nothing out of the ordinary, but things were odd, I couldn't describe it... something just didn't look right. The kitchen looked so dim, the once bright yellow cabinets looked pale, the cliché checkered vinyl floor looked grey and bland... even my mother's red apron that she always wore looked a dull pink. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. "I should've gotten more sleep last night," I scoffed under my breath. My mother turned around, with a smile on her face. Most likely acknowledging my presence.

After observing the contents of breakfast I decided I wasn't hungry, so I went up to my room to get dressed. I felt heavy, and drowsy. "What happened last night...?" I asked myself. Now I'm worried; I can't seem to remember anything before waking up. I try hard to regain my memory, but brush the difficulty off as fatigue and open my wardrobe to find an outfit. Grey sweater and blue jeans. "Impressive," I muttered to myself with that cheeky sarcasm my mother always hated. "I'M OFF TO SCHOOL MOM!" I yelled. No reply. That's odd, my mother didn't give me her usual lecture about staying out of trouble. I headed for the front door.

As I'm walking down the street, I spot my friend. "Hey pal, how's it going?" My friend ignores me. "Hey, what's wrong?" He keeps ignoring me. I tapped him on his shoulder, but he swatted his arm as you would when a foreign object comes into contact with it. "MATE! What's your problem?" I yelled, frustrated at today's events. He keeps walking, and I'm left standing on the sidewalk, wondering what the hell's going on... I decide to go back home. It's too much to handle, and I'm way too tired to bother coming up with a logical explanation, he's probably upset at me. I don't know why though.

Upon entering my home, I hear laughter. It's my mother. I find her in the kitchen, alone in the same spot I'd seen her at breakfast... I approached her near the sink, what I see takes the color right out of my face. The sink is full of blood, my mother's holding a bread knife in her hand. She starts mumbling. "I'm sorry... you looked so sweet, sleeping in your bed." I barely make the words out, blood covering her arms and dripping into the sink. "Are you okay? What have you done to yourself?!" It doesn't take me long to realize the blood in the sink isn't hers.

I run for my room, "I must still be sleeping... Of course, there's no explana-" I enter my room, and I see myself in bed, sleeping. I roll myself over. My body turns, but my head doesn't.