Shards We Carry

Chapter 01 - Bad Dream

Chapter 01 - BAD DREAM

A knock at the door broke my sleep. With a side eye, I saw Mom entering my room. Her silhouette casually brisked up to my pillow. It was still dark outside, and I wasn't in the mood to wake up yet. I rolled onto my side, pulling the covers tight in a feeble protest against the waking world. She sat quietly on the edge of the mattress, and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, she whispered into my ear – not a polite request to rise, but a desperate plea for help. It felt strange until something in the room seemed to snap.

I turned to her, "What's up, Mom?"

She held out her hand. It was wet. I rubbed the lingering sleep from my eyes before reaching for her.

"You were sleeping, babe," She murmured. "I didn't want to bother you. You see, I cut myself... silly old me! If it's not a bother, could you have a look?"

It was an unusual request. Mom never asked for help, especially in matters where blood was involved. She knew I couldn't stomach the sight of it.

"What did you do now?" I asked, squinting in the pre-dawn darkness. But as her hands touched mine, my breath got caught in my throat by what I felt.

Her palm was slick with blood, and a jagged shard of glass was wedged deep into the fleshy base of her thumb. Without missing a beat, I pulled it out. She grunted as fresh blood came gushing out. Panic clouded my judgment. It hadn't occurred to me that pulling it out was the worst thing I could do. The stench of blood coated my throat, making me nauseous, triggering a violent heave.

I gagged and glanced up at her face to see if she caught what I did to her hand. But another shock awaited me. The look on her face sent a fresh wave of horror over me. Hundreds of tiny, glittering shards were lodged in her face, twisting her features, making her look like a deformed witch from old stories. My soul exited my body for a second. I dropped her hand, leaving her to bleed onto my bedsheet.

She sighed, sounding merely annoyed, "What's wrong, babe? You let go of my hand."

When I, too stunned to speak, didn't reply, her annoyance shifted to disappointment. "What's the matter, love? Don't you care about me anymore? I never thought you'd do this to me."

I remained quiet and static. In my mind, everything turned frigid. I saw my thoughts scattering as if they weren't mine anymore.

"Answer me!" She snapped.

I had seen her frustrated before, even angry, but never like this, a grotesque figure. Pus and blood were oozing from the lacerations on her cheeks. She looked at me with pure disgust, and it scared the hell out of me.

After a moment of silence, her demeanor softened, snapping back to a cheerful, maternal warmth. "Listen, babe! My friend, MONA, will stay with you for now. We are going away for a while, your father and I. We need some 'us' time. You know how strange he's been acting lately. Don't worry, MONA will run the house just fine. It'd be like I never left. But you have to promise me something, that you'll do everything she says. No complaints and I mean it."

I lay there, shocked, trapped in my own horror, unable to process her casual indifference to her own mutilated face.

"I'm not putting too much pressure on you, babe, am I?" She turned even softer. "I know you're ... unwell. Just take it easy, babe." She gently unwrapped the bedsheet I had wrapped around my waist, "I'll get this washed, and I'll be back in no time."

Her lingering warmth unfroze my limbs as she stepped back. 'What?' I thought frantically, 'Does she not know she's bleeding? How could it be? She's the clever one of us bunch?'