The Turning Point - NECROTIC EDITION

Turn Signal (Prologue)

This story was submitted as a part of a talent show for the PufferfishGaming/Writing Discord. By some miracle, I also got first place! 

This story was initially posted on my Substack, The CroXdome's Quill.

Please note the NECROTIC EDITION version contains more mature content than the original, including references to suicide.

My son was never a "typical" kid. But his current condition is not normal.

Ever since he started that new treatment... He's just not himself. I haven't been able to get him to school in weeks.

I was told side effects could include drowsiness and increased appetite, but... like this? My son is so tired, I have to carry him out of bed in the morning. I have to clean his room, cook his meals, help him walk anywhere further from his room than the kitchen or bathroom. He struggles to do anything on his own aside from feeding his pet rat. I know it's irresponsible, but that rodent is the only thing able to make my son smile, so I let him save the last of his energy for that.

Even if it sometimes means I need to help him eat, too.

And I can't blame him for his meals tiring him out, given how often he cries about being hungry. Cries, yes, with tears. It's not a natural hunger; it's one of his side effects, and I fear it's a serious one. He insists the hunger is "too much," says the fatigue has made him feel "like a zombie." I'm worried, but the doctors have told me he's just nervous. Stressed about the chronic condition they diagnosed him with.

He's started to have strange twitches, too. Trembling fingers. Licking his lips. Sometimes, he'll toss his arms up over his head, like something else has possessed him, pulling his arms around to its whims in stiff, ghoulish spasms. The doctors said minor tremors could be a result of the medication, but they were seldom fatal. My son's condition, however, would be life-altering if not life-ending without immediate treatment. I've taken their word for it and kept my son on the pills.

As weeks went by, his condition worsened. He became nearly bedridden from drowsiness. The tremors spread to his legs, and now he walks with a shuffle. Constant trembling is his new normal. He struggles to talk to me, and sometimes, he's foaming at the mouth.

My son begs me with every opportunity he gets to stop the treatment. Either that, or he's begging for food. Ravenously. And I still have to cook for him.

I've offered to take over feeding his pet rat, yet somehow, he still manages to muster the concentration to care for her. I overhear him whispering to her, many nights having watched her crawl from her cage to his chest and rest there, comforting him into sleep as she lends an ear to his anguish. He says she understands him because she knows what it's like to be a lab rat. I think he's trying to tell me something.

He describes the effects of his treatment to me like he's being forced into someone else's body - one warped and broken. He's losing control, nervous system redirecting his movements against his will. He's still conscious, but everything is blurry, like he's observing his mind through a telescope. It's hell.

The doctors say he'll get used to it soon - he just has to tough it out. I don't like how dismissive they're being. These symptoms aren't benign. My boy could be suffering from irreversible nerve damage, and yet, they act like it's barely a papercut compared to his chronic condition.

But we have to keep him on the treatment. He locks his door at night, claims I can't come into his room, says he has recurring nightmares about causing the deaths of his family. Thanks to his foggy mind, he's been struggling to separate his dreams from reality.

I worry about what might happen without medical interventions in place. Despite the risks, those pills are the only thing safeguarding my son's life right now.