Moma's boy

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Jason's P.O.V.

I sat there staring in horror as my mother's head flew off.

I was about 11 yrs old at the time, her head rolled and came to a stop at my feet.

I wiped my tear stained cheeks and came out of my hiding spot and collected, the machete, mom's locket her sweater and head.

I went back to our cabin and made a shrine.

I hardly slept that night, I tossed and turned seeing the image of my mother getting killed in my head.

....................................................

Years later......

I been hearing mother's voice guiding me, telling me what to do she was all I had, why didn't she come back?

I kept killing to advantage her death and my Demise.

Hoping that one day she would be pleased and come back.

I keep getting killed and then I come back, I don't know why she didn't.

Sometimes when there is nobody to kill I sit and stare at her disembodied head and talk to her.

( mom why did you get killed?)

She would stare at me through her eye sockets.

( mom why did this happen to us?)

My special boy there are just cruel people in the world.They don't care about anybody except themselves.

We must make them pay punish them Jason!

Kill for mother!

I love you my jaybird.

(I love you too mom, I wish there was somebody like you that would come along.)

I'll see what I can do about that.

(How?)

don't question your mother young man!

I sighed and got up and went to make my rounds, not knowing that that special someone was caught in one of my traps.

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