GHOST TOWN

EPILOGUE

A cool breeze wafts against my face as I stroll down the sidewalk leading to my residence. Music blasts in my ears, making me blissfully unaware of the lack of bustling streets, and the unusual silence of the neighborhoods. My fingers fly across the keyboard on the screen of my phone as I try to get in contact with my uncle. He’s supposed to pick me up today, but it seems he must’ve fallen asleep again. He’s been doing that a lot more often recently, and I’m, admittedly, a little skeptical about it. Pushing past the suspicions swarming my thoughts, I shut off my phone and pocket it before looking ahead and focusing solely on where I’m going and the beats of the song playing in my ears. Time seems to fly by, because it seems like it only takes me mere seconds to get home, despite the walk being over twenty minutes from school. I open the old front door, stepping in and carefully slipping my shoes off my feet. The hinges creak as the door slowly shuts itself, the only light currently being the grayness seeping through the wide windows, and the soft yellow light coming from the kitchen. Looks like mama’s up and walking again.
“¿Madre?” I call out, my voice impossibly loud in the quietness of the house. I hear shuffling, followed by a rather asthmatic cough. Yup, that’s mumma, alright. “Mumma, I thought your back was hurting?” I say gently, walking into the kitchen, watching as my mother scatters about, frantically looking for something. Her eyes are blown wide, and she has cuts all along her forearms, all in the shapes of stars and pentagons and the like. My eyes narrow, my eyebrows furrowing.
“¿Madre, qué pasa? I thought we got over this.” I say sternly, however my tone remains gentle and loving. “Please, mama. Let me wrap you—” My request is interrupted by my mother’s frail, cold hands grabbing onto my shoulders, a stark contrast to how they used to be—warm, soft, loving. My body tenses up as her wide, frenzied eyes bore into mine, her pupils dilated with craze.
“They’re coming, mija! The Smilers, they’re coming!” She shrieks, shaking me frantically with her thin, lanky hands. I raise a single, bushy eyebrow, suspecting that this is just another one of her episodes.
“Mama, stop. You’re hallucinating again. C’mon, let’s get you back to bed, and I can patch your arms up. But, you need to stop with this whole ‘Smilers’ thing, okay?” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger. She doesn’t seem to falter.
“No, mija! You must understand, the Smilers are coming, they’re only weeks away! Listen to me, Axl. The Smilers are the ones in the walls. They’re the ones behind you in the mirror. They’re the ones that make you paranoid when you’re walking alone in a dark hallway! Please, Axl. You have to listen!” She rambles mindlessly, and I feel myself getting a little too fed up. This is getting out of hand.
“Mom. Stop. I’m not Axl. I’m Krystal. Stop mixing me up with her.” I scowl, firmly grabbing her hands and tugging her out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. I sit her down on the edge of the bathtub, walking across the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. I walk back over to her, immediately noticing how she’s no longer babbling nonsense. “Mumma. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. You’re just stressing me out. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you if you’re like this.”
I say softly, running my hand through my short brown hair, pushing it out of my face. I kneel down beside her. Setting the first aid kit aside. “Roll your sleeves up, please.” I request, my voice soft and apologetic. She complies reluctantly, pouting like a child. I sigh, grabbing the small bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a small cotton pad. I uncap the bottle and press the pad against the top before flipping it upside down and right side up in one, swift movement. I carefully slide the cotton pad off of the bottle with ease before setting it aside and screwing the cap back onto the bottle. “This’ll sting. BRace.” I mutter before placing the cotton pad directly on the deepest wound.
“Ah-!” Mama shrieks, tugging her arm away, causing the wound I was tending to to deepen. She shouts out in pain, and my eyes widen.
“Oh, no. Mama, no, I’m sorry! Please, let me see it.” I react swiftly, reaching out to grab her. She pulls away again, tears filling her eyes.
“You’re just like your father! You hurt me! And just like you did your sister!” She snaps, standing up and padding to her bedroom, leaving me alone. She’s mistaken me for my sister again—I’ve never once hurt my sister. She hurt me. But it still hurts that she’d even consider me to be anything like my monster of a father. I sigh, rubbing my face and standing up. I’ll clean up the medical things tomorrow. I need some sleep. I stand up and walk over to my bedroom, swiftly getting changed into some comfy clothes, a baggy tank top and some sweatpants. I lay down in my twin Xl—the bed I’ve had since I was ten because that was the year after my dad left and my mother has been too sick to pay for a new one, and I don’t have the money nor the space to get a new one myself. I roll onto my side and tuck my hand beneath my pillow before shutting my eyes.
Hours later, I’m woken by the beam of sunlight shining in my eye through the crusty old window. I grumble, groggily sitting up. I rub my eyes and lazily get out of bed, standing up and trudging over to my closet to get changed.
After deciding on a light brown crewneck sweater and a pair of baggy pale denim jeans, I make my way to the bathroom to clean up the mess I made last night. I grab a damp paper towel and kneel down to clean up the blood that was once in my mother’s body. I wince as it stains the pale, old-style tiles. It almost blends in with the filthiness of the rest of the house. I continue scrubbing, silently anticipating the moment my mother walks out of her room so I can apologize for being so uptight and for hurting her, even if by accident.
Time flies by, and the bathroom is spotless–save for the blood stains on the tiles and side of the bathtub, which I can bleach later. After I buy bleach, of course. I brush my hands off and turn on my heel to head to my mother’s room. She has yet to come out of her room, which is odd, because she’s usually up before me. I gently rap my knuckles on the wood slab of her door, waiting patiently for a response. I wait for a few seconds, and when I don’t get an answer, I gently call out.
“Ma? You awake?” No response. I let out a soft huff of breath before grabbing the handle. “I’m coming in. Please don’t yell at me for intruding again..” I mumble that last part beneath my breath as I turn the handle and push the door forward. I’m met with the sight of a pale, unconscious woman—my mother— with a still chest. I slowly walk over to her side of the bed, the out-of-place floorboards creaking beneath the weight of my body. I lean down and press my ear to her chest, monitoring for any pulse. Then I realize that my hearing isn’t all that great, so I stand upright and instead place the pads of two fingers to her pulse. Nothing. Panicked, I gently grasp her shoulders and shake her. Still unconscious. I lay her back down and interlace my fingers before placing my palms on the center of her chest before pumping.
“Shit, shit, shit. No. Mama, c’mon. Wake up. Don’t leave me.” Tears well up in my eyes as I try desperately to rouse my mother from her possibly-endless slumber. My breaths pick up in pace, my heart thrumming an uneven beat against my ribcage as my chest heaves with stress. “Fuck, please! Mom! You can’t leave me! You’re all I have left!” I shout, tears spilling down my cheeks, dripping onto my trembling hands as they restlessly pump up and down on her chest. It’s useless. I fall to my knees at the side of her bed, my hands still on her chest as I sob relentlessly, my fingers curling around the cloth of her shirt. “No, mama.. Please.. You can’t leave..” I whimper, my chest beginning to hurt as I start to hyperventilate, wheezing with each breath. My hands shake violently, and I fall back off my knees, against the wall of my mother’s room’s wall. I clutch at my chest as it aches, sending pulses of pain through my nervous system. I try to scream, but it feels as though my chest is being stepped on, keeping my voice from exiting my mouth. I begin to feel nauseous, my head pounding, my stomach hurting. Sweat beads on my eyebrow, my vision flattening. Then, as if I were knocked out, the room is plunged into darkness as I fall into the hands of unconsciousness.

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A/N
HEEHEEE NEW STORY

JUST NOT A FANFIC. UNFORTUNATE.
anyways
Uh
Hi
Yes
I am working on a legitimate story
I really like it so far
Also, uh, my mummy found out abt me s/hing 😔😔😔
Sighs
DW IM OKK!!!!!!! IT WAS A ONE TIME THING
anyways, uh
Yall like it so far?