Chapter 15
My mother pointed at me, looked at me, like I was a monster. Like I was the beast and nothing more. The absolute fear in her wet eyes as they bore into mine shook me to my very core. I was unable to move but she scrambled desperately away from me pressing herself against the wall.
"Demon," she screeched at me as she darted from the room.
I was frozen to the spot. The woman who raised me, who loved me and cared for me no matter what.... She is repulsed by what she saw. I was protecting her.... Doesn't she know that I would never harm her? I got up, needing to explain myself to her. But my heart was already broken.
I needed to tell her I wasn't a beast. The beast. I was more than what was inside my head.
It didn't take long to find that she was hiding behind her bed. She was cowering, I could see her figure trembling and jerking back and forth looking for me. Her eyes were the rabbit's, the one hiding in its borrow while the fox's claws tore at the dirt. I stood in the doorway not wanting to startle her, I whispered, "It's me, your son Torsten."
"You are no son of mine demon!" She screamed in almost rage, "I saw what you did! Get out of my house and don't come near me!"
I felt like a spear had taken out my heart. Whatever happened to unconditional motherly love? This wasn't something I could control I hope she knew that. Of course she knew that. Yet she hid from me as if I would attack her. I never before felt so dangerous, so much like an animal. Like something that needed to be caged. I stepped back, and stepped back again until my back hit a wall and I slid down it to be closer to my knees. And I wept.
Just yesterday my mum was all over me. Hugging me like her son. Laughing and smiling with me. Now I'm a demon..... And she can't look at me.
What had I done?
In a simple act of protection, I had deleted my whole life. My childhood. The one person who always cared for me.... Gone, just like this.
To make matters worse my father came trudging up to me.
"Stop crying you faggot," He growled at me and walked into my mother's room. The insult bounced off me, anger couldn't flare up in the stormy ocean of sadness. It drowned everything. Even my own voice.
I couldn't stop hi, but he would just make everything worse. He's never made things better so why would he start now? Mother was traumatised and he had no empathy.
"What are you crying about?" He glared down at her.
"There is a demon in our house!" She screamed.
My father raised an eyebrow at her. Clearly not believing her, she was insane to him. My mother stood on her knees so that she could see me and accusing me of all the crimes of the world just with one look, but to explain herself she pointed at me, "There, he is a huge yellow monster!"
My father slapped her, "You crazy woman that is your son!"
Flames of anger flared up inside me but they were crushed and drowned. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I could barely breathe.
"No he is a demon, I saw him!"
My father gestured at me to go to my room. His command willed me to my feet and I stumbled down the hall though my lungs were failing me and my knees were weak. For once I did what he said without complaint. There was nothing I could do anyway. Getting any closer to mother would just scare her. Trying to stop whatever my father's plan for her was would probably be a disaster. Even remaining in her vision would not help. I collapsed on my bed and cried into my pillow. What was I going to do without her? I knew from this point on I was alone. Without support from anyone.
I could hear angry Swedish being thrown back and forth, insane and demon being the most used words by both of them.
An emptiness filled me. My heart grew heavy as did my eyelids. The hugeness of it all crashed down on me and I soon sunk down into sleep.
***
When I awoke I just lay there. No point in moving, going anywhere. I would only cause my mother more pain. She must have hoped that I would have turned out as a good man, a gentleman, nothing like my father. Having to deal with him everyday must have made her pray that I would in spite of my genetics inherit none of my father's traits. That nurture would win out over nature. But did I ever prove her wrong? I could just imagine her watching me, the same monster my father was. Of course, a more literal version of it. To her I must have been tearing apart innocent people. Despite my cracked lips and dry eyes, a tear ran down my face.
In her eyes all of her hard work must have been so pointless. I was him but to her complete horror I was so much worse than him.
No wonder she couldn't stand to see the sight of me. No wonder she was traumatised.
Still, there was a part of me which was angry. The beast. It was angry at her. It was trying to protect her and was only hungry. It had done nothing wrong. She should accept her son for who he is, not condemn him. He was a werewolf, not a demon. He wasn't evil, just merely doing what he was born to do.
The more I listened to the beast the more I started to agree with it, though my heart and my mind knew it was wrong. Sadness is the appropriate emotion yet patches of fur arose and sank into my skin, as naturally as breathing.
I must have laid there all day as before I knew it orange rays cast over my wall. I couldn't cry anymore. I couldn't feel anymore. I had unconsciously numbed myself as a coping mechanism. I had numbed myself to time as well it seemed.
Sitting up was the biggest effort in the world. Opening the door, the universe.
The house was deathly quiet. No noises from the TV, nothing from the radio, kitchen or anywhere. I, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not disturb the silence and give myself away, made my way to my mother's room. It was empty but the sheets were thrown around the room as if there was a struggle.
I followed the scent of my mother's perfume to the front door. The car was missing from the driveway. I stared at the empty driveway. They had gone together. He had taken her somewhere.... A surge of protective instinct bit into the numbness. But my mind fought it off. She didn't care about me anymore and was better off with him, whatever he was doing.
The car suddenly pulled into the driveway and I jumped away from the door. Sprinted into another room and peered through the curtains at the driveway. My mother was clinging to my father's arm as he opened the door. She was looking everywhere, her head jerking around like scared prey.
And I was her predator. Only I wanted nothing more than a hug from her.
My father struggled with the keys and she spotted me. Her eyes flashed with crazed anger as they met mine. I quickly closed the curtains and backed away from the window. That look was the scariest thing I had ever seen and I took a few breaths to calm myself.
THUMP came from the window.
Then Swedish yelling.
Another thump with the crashing of glass that hit the curtain as the window gave way. Glass washed over my feet. My mother shot toward me with hands that clamped instantly around my throat. I didn't struggle or resist in any way. I deserved this. The beast was raging inside of me wanting to fight back but sadness collared it and tugged it back. She ploughed her knee into my stomach repeatedly. I didn't try to block her knee, I wanted to feel the full effect. As if the pain would make it up to her. As if hurting me would fix her perception of me. If she strangled me enough it would make things go back to the way they were and those hands wouldn't be around my throat but my shoulders.
My father wrapped an arm around her slender waist and tried to pull her back while on the phone.
I think I was about to black out from lack of oxygen but all I remembered was my father managing to get her off me and she punched me in the face. I stayed on the ground and let her kick me in the ribs as my father tried to control her. Her body riggled and struggled desperately against his, just to get back to me. And that look in her face. I had only seen it from the vampires.
She wanted to kill me.
I lay there my lungs screaming at me to gasp for air but not having the will power to do it as if her very look had winded me. Could she ever return to the woman who lovingly called me a stupid boy who was so excited about my love life?
The look in her eyes was something feral, something primal. Like the instinct to kill an insect. I was no longer her son. I was something to be removed.
I couldn't breathe...
The police came and took her away. My father wanted to call an ambulance for me but I just shook my head as I watched my mother screaming at me behind the glass of the police car, struggling in her hand cuffs. The police questioned me about what happened and why she was acting like that. I honestly didn't remember what I told them, lost in the emptiness that she had left. The story was she was traumatised from seeing me being attacked by a wild dog and those men and became so unstable she convinced herself something had possessed me.
A few days later my mother was taken to a mental institution and I was left with my father. I was ... alone.
First edited 12/5/2019
Spelling and grammar check 1 - 25/6/2019
Workshopping edit - 9/8/2022