*TRIGGER WARNING*
Norma glanced over at Alex. "They've stopped."
"What?"
"The contractions-- they stopped."
"Well, we're here now..."
"We should go on in. They could start up again any minute, and I'd rather be there than here," she said.
Twenty minutes later, she was laying in a hospital bed, watching the flat-screen television with Alex at her side. They were showing Cheers. Norma had never watched much TV; she had rarely used the one they had growing up, so it never became a habit for her. However, she found herself digesting plenty of ridiculous children's cartoons over the years, that and the black-and-white films Norman loved so much. Yet Alex laughed along with every joke, even though he could quote every line like he had heard it a million times.
"This used to be my father's favorite show," he muttered under his breath.
Norma winced, and when she didn't respond, her husband's gaze was torn from the television. "You okay?"
She let out a breath of air. "Yeah. How far apart was that?"
"It's been almost an hour."
Norma sighed.
He held her hand again, squeezing it gently. She smiled back at him, before glaring at the clock.
She had barely slept the night before and was now so tired that her head bobbed and her eyelids felt heavy. The prospect of sleeping made her anxious, though. I need-- to stay awake, she told herself, shivering.
Her head eventually hit the pillow. She didn't know how long it was before she was disturbed again, yet at some point the doctor came in and Alex woke her calmly. He asked them a few questions before moving on to check Norma, upon which she was disappointed to learn that she was barely dilated.
"Hey, it's okay, Norma, your water hasn't even broken yet," Alex said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "We're getting there, albeit slowly."
She rolled her eyes, huffing at him.
Another contraction came and went, and Alex rubbed his wife's neck, doing what he hoped would help to distract her from the pain. "The boys-- neither of the boys took this long," she told him, grasping his hand as the pain started to ease. "It's strange...it's different. I just hope nothing's wrong," she said.
"Norma, listen to me. Nothing's wrong. You're not doing anything wrong. You just need to try to rest," he glanced at the TV, "Maybe watch a little television, and just stay calm. You're doing great."
"That's easy for you to say. You've never done anything like this before," she groaned. He was surprised when her expression changed to a smile. "Now, that would be something I'd pay to see," she teased, poking him. "Mr. Tough Guy Romero vs. Labor Pains."
He smiled playfully at her. "Yeah, I'm not gonna argue with that one. You paint me up as Mr. Tough Guy, but you're the tough one," for a moment, she thought he was getting all teary-eyed on her. "You know, if I had ever known about all those things that happened to you before," he paused, "If I had been the one going through what you went through...I don't think I'd be alive today."
They shared a kiss. Upon pulling away, Norma steeled herself against another contraction. The hand that was previously interlocked with her husband's escaped to rest on her womb. She gasped. He placed his hand over hers, on her belly, just to see if he could feel anything.
Another hour came and went. Norma shifted around, thinking that the change in position might help, yet with little success. However, even as the contractions came, she kept herself calm, with a few soothing words from Alex every now and then. "Okay-- I need to stand up," she insisted, raising herself up in the bed.
"Are you sure?"
"C'mon Alex, I know what I'm doing, just help me up," she begged, squeezing his hand.
"Okay, alright," he moved quickly to the other side of the bed, putting one arm around her while she maneuvered herself carefully out from under the sheets. Norma stood at the end of the bed, holding herself up with both hands as she leaned against it for support. She took a deep breath, feeling the intensity of another contraction. "Alex--"
Before she could say anything else he was behind her, holding her hands and supporting her as she whimpered from the force of the pain.
"Maybe you should lay back down."
She shook her head. "No. Standing is helping," her breathing steadied as she composed herself again.
"Uh-- Norma, baby, I think your water just broke."
Norma released herself from his grasp, holding her womb, staring down at the floor. "Oh, yeah. It's broke," she leaned into him, smiling confidently. "I told you standing would help." He didn't know whether to be proud or bothered as she climbed back into the bed, making herself as comfortable as possible. "Good thing you brought a change of clothes, huh?" she mused.
"I'm glad you think this is funny." He glanced down at his own wet clothes, then back to her.
She laughed. "Go on. Go change. I'll be fine here."
Norma thought she heard him grumbling under his breath as he walked away.
A nurse came in to examine Norma during the next hour. When Alex came back out, his wife was smiling. "We're almost there."
"That's great, honey. See, I told you everything's alright," he sat in the chair next to the bed, which was still close enough for him to wrap an arm around her. She started to breath heavily once more, and he brought a damp cloth to her face as the next contraction wracked her body. Norma reached for his other hand and he gave it to her, speaking to her in hushed tones.
When it was over, he pulled her hair back again, kissing her temple. "It's okay, you're doing good..."
The nurse turned her attention to the couple again. "Norma, dear, I think it's time we get you to the delivery room."
Norma smiled wanly at Alex as they moved her to the delivery room. The place was already set up with everything the doctor would need to successfully assist in the birth. Alex stood on her left side, his arm interlocked with her left leg as she started to push. "Five more seconds," the nurse told her. She stopped, throwing her head back against the pillow with a few deep breaths.
"Alright, the next contraction will be in about thirty seconds."
"Oh, Alex--"
"You're doing good, Norma. She's almost here," he promised her. "I'm sure she's beautiful."
She met his reassuring gaze with a soft one before closing her eyes and gritting her teeth against the next contraction. The doctor encouraged her to push, and she did as she was told. "She's crowning," Norma moaned, "I can feel it." Her eyes met her husband's, and for a moment she swore she saw tears in his eyes.
"Alright, you're going to have to push harder now," the nurse urged. Norma cried out, tucking her chin into her chest. "You're going to have to push harder, nothing's happening."
Her breathing slowed and she stopped for a moment before continuing.
"One more time, Norma."
A few minutes later, their child took her first breath. Norma was crying now, yet her tears were happy. "Oh, Alex, she's perfect," she told him, watching as they wrapped her baby in a soft blanket.
"She's got a pretty good set of lungs on her," he said. They laid the screaming bundle in Norma's arms, and she calmed to a low cry.
"Yeah, I'd say she gets that from me," she teased, kissing him on the cheek.
"Do you have a name for her?"
Norma nodded. "Yeah. I think we'll call her Theresa," she took Alex's hand; if he wasn't crying before, he definitely was now. "Theresa Joann Romero."
Alex's smile set her heart on fire. She couldn't help but look down at their new baby; Norma's first baby girl.
~ ~
They had all fallen asleep an hour later, much to everyone's surprise. Norma had expected the child to be a bit more fussy, yet after her first feeding, she seemed to be just as tired as everyone else. Now, Alex sat in the chair beside the bed, snoring. Norma laid on the hospital bed, her hands in her lap. Baby Theresa laid beside her, curled up in a blanket in the bassonet, snoozing away.
Norma rolled over, gazing lovingly at her baby. Although she had always loved her boys, and would never trade them for anything, it pleased her to finally have a little girl, even if it didn't quite go as expected.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, and she snatched it up, expecting to see Dylan's face light up its screen. She sighed, her suspicions confirmed. "Hey Honey, how's it going over there? Dylan?"
She froze. On the other end of the phone, her eldest's screams could be heard.
"Dylan?"
The call was lost.
Her phone buzzed again, and she swiped it, glaring at a message that presumably came from Norman's phone.
Norman? He's not supposed to--
COME ALONE.
What?
Her mind went back to Dylan's cries for help.
It buzzed again. COME ALONE, OR HE DIES.
Her breath hitched in her throat. She started to hyperventilate, then coached herself into breathing normally again as she wondered what could possibly be happening to Dylan at this very moment.
Alex was still snoring in the chair next to her bed.
The baby fidgeted a little, sighed, then appeared to drift back to sleep.
There was only one thing she knew to do.
COME ALONE, OR HE DIES.
Norma stood on weak, wobbly legs, feeling numb as she did so, yet knowing that she needed to try to walk if she was going to get anywhere. Once she was sure that she wouldn't fall over, she padded quietly from the room, peering out the door before doing so.
There were five people walking around outside their rooms; one woman walking slowly with a nurse at her side, and another walking with her husband on one side and a nurse on the other. There was a desk across from her with a lady behind it, who was busying herself by filing papers. Just act natural, like you're supposed to be here, and no one will say a word. Norma winced as her feet touched the cold, bare floor. Shoes would've been a good idea, she chided herself silently.
An alarm went off behind her, and the lady behind the desk called out to her. Norma ran at full speed, ignoring the awkwardness that was running in a hospital gown.
She got a head start of a few minutes, and even managed to get a few floors down without being questioned. There were some weird glares, sure, but she was getting used to it.
Norma busted out of the elevator, surprised to see a security guard slowly inching her way. "Hey, Miss, you're not supposed to be down here--" she ran as fast as her legs could carry her, and he sped after her, getting way too close when she finally lost her footing, slamming into the cold floor with a wince. She glanced down at herself, momentarily realizing how crazy she must have looked with her hair askew and blood staining her hospital gown.
She cursed herself mentally before getting up.
Norma made it out the door and into the car, jamming the key in and speeding out of the parking lot. She fought the urge to look at her phone as it buzzed again, then gave in, glancing over it quickly.
THE HOUSE IS LIT AND WAITING.
Norma knew that this had every possibility of being a trap, yet she no longer cared. If someone was messaging her phone and wanted her to come to the house, she would do it, if it meant that her children would survive safely.
Still, most of the pieces of the puzzle were missing, and she thought she felt regret welling in her chest as she walked up the steps to her suddenly forboding home.
These steps are going to be the death of me.
She climbed higher, feeling more fatigued the longer she walked. You're going to kill yourself, she could hear Alex chiding gently.
Norma opened the creaky door, poking her head inside. A gust of cold air hit her, and she shivered, wishing she had a coat to wrap around her. It's nearly as cold in here as it is outside, she realized, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Dylan, Honey, are you here?" she asked, walking into a dresser that was sitting in the foyer. She groaned, paused to servey the kitchen, then went on. "Dylan?" she turned the corner, glancing at her stained-glass window before she heard a muffled commotion.
"Dylan?!?"
In the living room was Dylan, propped up in one of the kitchen chairs with a rope tied around him and a piece of duct tape stuck over his mouth. She ran to him, and started to pull off the tape, hoping to understand his muffled cries.
She hardly had time to notice his wild expression before hearing the footsteps of the man that was sneaking behind her. Norma turned, taking in the mop of dark hair and the bulgy, blue eyes that studied her wearily. "Why, hello, Mother. It's nice to see that you're doing so well, after having been away for so long."
Norma stiffened. She finally understood it in that moment. "Norman?! Why would you tie him up like this? What are you doing to him? Why--" she could hardly form the words. He must have noticed the obvious disgust in her voice, for he flinched away from her and would not meet her petrified gaze. The hands that were previously folded in front of him were now jerking into a rapid, hand-washing motion.
"You know exactly why I've brought you here. You've been putting these thoughts into my head, making me do things I don't want to do, and I'm tired, Mother. I'm so tired."
"Norman, it's not what you think. You-- you must have had one of your blackouts. Dr. Edwards says that you get confused when you have them..."
"This is not a blackout, Mother!"
"Norman, listen to me--"
"No. No! I'm done listening to you. All I've done my entire life is listen to you. I'm through listening to you, Mother, and now you're going to listen to me!" his voice raised higher as he continued to scream, and Norma's lips began to tremble as she tried to swim past his anger.
"Okay. Just-- say what you need to say, Norman," she encouraged, raising a hand to stroke her boy's face. "You've got my attention. Go ahead and tell me what you need to tell me."
He pulled away from her, wringing his hands. "They say that a lionesses cubs are born with an instinctual drive to hunt, did you know that?"
Norma glared at him, confused.
"They're born with an instinctual drive and ability to hunt, yet sometimes, they just need a little nudge. Sometimes, a mother will bring her cubs live prey to hunt, so she can observe their skills and teach them how to improve," he was staring straight through her, as if he could see the scene playing in his own mind. He started to pace, and Norma lowered herself in front of him, perhaps with the thought of making herself a smaller target.
"This-- skill that she encourages, is a rather violent task, if you look at it from a different perspective. Sometimes, the mother lets her young play with the prey until it inevitably escapes," his eyes darted to the couch, "but then sometimes, her own urges grow stronger, until she just can't take it anymore." He must have thought that she was perplexed, for she watched as his hand moved swiftly towards the couch and wrapped around the shotgun that he'd left laying there. Her eyes were as wide as saucers as he brought it up to chest level, brandishing it like he might've if he were going to war.
"Sometimes, she just has to slaughter the poor, defenseless prey, just so her offspring will get the right idea. Then, once she's done it," she watched, frozen with terror as he loaded the firearm, "the instinct really does kick in, and those adorable cubs aren't so innocent anymore," he aimed it at her, and she stepped back, fully intent on avoiding the mouth of the gun.
"We just don't belong in this world, mother," he said, shaking as he held the gun. "We're murderers, you and I. Liars. Thieves. And if we're not careful, it's going to catch up to us, someday," she could hear his breath hitching in his throat, as if he really didn't want to go through with what he was considering. She understood this, knowing her boy, and, with the hope that he might listen to her, drew closer to him, despite the danger that was between them.
"Norman-- please put down the gun."
"I can't, Mother," he whimpered. "I have to go through with this," he cried, "It's the only way, it's the only way to get the voices out of my head...I need to get the voices out, Mother. It will help me--"
"Norman, you don't have to do this. I am your mother, and I am telling you that we can get through this together," she choked over her own words, as well as the words of her son, "We can get through this together, just give me the gun..."
She took the stock in one hand, and caressed his face with the other. "Norman, I love you so much. Alex loves you too, you know that. You've got a baby sister at the hospital, waiting to meet you. Please, Norman," she tried pulling it away from him, yet his grip was like iron and didn't even loosen against her own strength. "Please, Norman, give me the gun, and we can get through this hurt together," she kissed his cheek, and tried prying it away from his grip again.
"You're right, Mother," he said, stepping back from her, although his other hand was latched to her arm. "Neither of us can do this alone. Even if I wanted it to be that way, neither of us could do this alone, because there's a cord between our hearts-- you would die without me, Mother. You've said it yourself, you would die without me. So we have to do this together," Her eyes were wet with tears, and he thought he saw fear in them before she tried jerk her arm from his grasp, "It'll be easier if you don't struggle..."
Deep within the madness that ensued, Norma was sure that she could still hear Dylan's muffled cries. Her eyes met the blank stare of her son as he aimed the shotgun at her right breast and fired.
She fell back with a scream. Her hand went to her chest. She suddenly felt numb, and cold, and scared all at the same time as her hands were met with the sticky, dark liquid that was her own blood. In this moment, she nearly prayed that she would pass out, if it would only stop the pain that radiated throughout her tortured mind and her battered body. Norma knew she couldn't have been so lucky. Although her vision began to blur, she could not avoid the scene in front of her no matter how many times she closed her eyes.
Norman cocked the gun again, before holding it inside his own mouth and firing.
Her shriek split the tense air. Dylan closed his eyes, his crying muffled. It sounded as if her own heart was being ripped out of her chest and held in the air in front of her, and he could only imagine what it felt like. Norma was almost certain that she saw a piece of her youngest son's skull hit the wall, but given the pain and the haze over her eyes, she couldn't be sure.
Norma blacked out, leaving a trapped, mortified Dylan as the only conscious being left in the house.
~ ~
He woke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own.
Norma had never suffered any out-of-body experiences, but she knew exactly what it was like, looking yourself in the mirror and knowing that something unusual had happened.
It hadn't been that hard, really. All she had to do was look in the mirror and see her patched-up chest knowing that nothing would ever really be the same as it was before.
She walked back towards the bed and sat down.
Alex looked over at her. "You wanna talk?"
Norma stared straight on through, ignoring him.
"Norma, we can't help each other get through this if we don't talk about it--"
"Have you ever thought that maybe we're not supposed to get through this?!"
He paused, eyeing her warily.
She hadn't spoken to him in days. They had found her in the house two weeks ago, on the floor in front of a tied up Dylan and a nearly-decapitated Norman. Alex didn't feel strong. In fact, he wasn't even sure that he felt okay, yet he could only imagine what Norma must have been feeling up to this moment.
The moment he saw Norman's lifeless body he thought he would never sleep again. But then he realized, with a fair amount of dread, that his wife had actually witnessed what had happened here, and been victim to it.
Theresa started to cry, and Alex stood, walking over to her crib. He picked her up with such dexterity and ease that Norma was jealous, and refused to acknowledge him even as he held their newborn in his hands. She displayed a nonchalant expression as he rocked the baby, trying his best to calm her down. He reached for her bottle and attempted to plant it in her mouth, yet she squirmed away from him, screaming fiercely.
Alex glanced over at her, expecting an offer to help, yet received nothing in return. He bottled his frustration once again and stood, rocking her gently as he walked from one end of the room to the other.
When Norma first woke up, Alex assumed that her first thought would be for Theresa. "Where's my baby? Is she all right? Is she taken care of?"Those were the questions he prepared for. Instead, she'd said nothing, and it dawned on him. She must have had faith that, no matter how long it took her to recover, Alex would be there to take care of their child. Norma had gone days without eating or speaking, and only stared blankly at anyone who attempted to make conversation with her. It was all too easy for her to be wrapped in her own thoughts; if Alex was here for Theresa, that should be enough, right?
If it hadn't been for his own reputation, he knew she would've been left at the hospital or stuck in some facility where a number of doctors would be trying to take away her pain and convince her to live a normal life again.
"I'm really worried about her," he told Dr. Edwards once. "I laid Theresa in her arms yesterday, and she just-- stared at her. Barely even held onto her. No hint of emotion whatsoever."
The other man was silent for a moment, then spoke, "I've never really dealt with anything like this before, but I think I can give you some advice, based on what I have seen.
You need to make her understand that she can't just expect to be waited on hand-and-foot. It's understandable that she's still grieving; it's only been a few weeks since Norman passed away. However, if you keep up the trend, you're enabling her into thinking that she can sit up in that room forever without a bit of human interaction."
"What are you suggesting?"
He sighed. "This is a highly unusual situation. I'm not suggesting that you leave Theresa completely alone with Norma, at least, not yet. Maybe...leave her alone in a room with the child and start working on something in the house. Whether she starts crying for you or not, Norma will come around. You may just have to ease her into it, let her think that she's doing these little things on her own time."
"You want me to set her up?"
"In simpler terms, yes."
The next morning, about a month after Norman's demise, Alex started fixing up the house. It started out with little things, like changing a lightbulb or two, then excalated into fixing windows and repainting the outside.
Norma woke to Theresa's cries. She blinked, then looked around, realizing that Alex wasn't there. She closed her eyes again, wanting only a little sleep, thinking that perhaps if she lay still and quiet then the child would calm down. Instead, her screams only grew louder, and Norma pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh.
She stood, then walked over to the crib gingerly.
Theresa's hair was thick and dark, her eyes alert and curious by her mother's appearance. If month-old infants did have a thought process, Norma believed that the child wouldn't have even given her a second thought. "Hey there," she whispered, staring down at the baby with a mask of pity.
She wriggled around a bit, cooing and waving her arms. At first, Norma thought she would luck out, until suddenly started crying again.
"Oh, no, don't do that," she chided, reaching in to touch her child's hand. Norma brushed her little hand, shivered, and pulled away ever so slightly. "Alex!" she glanced around, half expecting to hear him coming up the stairs.
Nothing.
She sighed, pursed her lips, then reached in to pick up Theresa. Her arms were trembling with emotion as she sat with the child in her lap, staring down at her with a look that could have easily been mistaken for contempt.
For the first time since she woke up in that hospital bed, she cried.
Theresa looked so much like Norman, and she wanted to hate the child for it, but it was impossible for her to do so.
Norma didn't distinguish Alex's pounding footsteps from the ringing in her ears.
"Norma, Honey, are you alright?" he asked, looking alarmed.
She glared up at him. He figured she wasn't going to answer his question, but then her lips parted as she began to speak, "It's not that I don't love her, Alex. It's just-- the last time I held one of my children like this...the last child I held like this was Norman, and I just-- I can't let the memory go."
Alex sat beside her on the bed. His eyes brushed over Theresa's features, avoiding his wife's gaze.
"It's not a bad thing, you know. Being reminded of him sometimes. It's only natural," he told her. "I think about him too, all the time. And I know I wasn't there when he was born, but it's never really mattered. He was still my son, and I loved him too."
She looked at him as if she had known this truth, yet never really believed it.
"It's good, that you're able to remember him that way. It's better, really. Norman would want you to remember the good times, Norma. It's not wrong to grieve. It's not wrong to cry, or to remember those times that you had with him," he paused, "But we are all our own people. Theresa is her own person, and she doesn't need to suffer for something that happened to us. The best thing you can do now for yourself and for Norman's memory is to take care of yourself, and take care of Theresa, knowing that he would want that."
Norma sniffed, then leaned into him slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I shut you out. I'm sorry that I neglected her. I just never thought it would hurt this much," she cried, "and I never thought it would hurt you this much, either. I'll do better, for myself, and you, and her."
Alex swallowed hard, trying in vain to get rid of the lump that was in his throat. He placed his arm around Norma, remembering the first time that he found her in that little shopping center, stealing peanut butter from old Joe Harvey.
He recalled the first time he watched her sooth a screaming infant; Norman was only four months old and was running a fever while his teeth came in. He remembered helping Dylan fetch his ball from the street, and landing a kiss on Norma's lips afterwards. She had been startled and aggravated at this move, and he apologized, although he knew she was melting over him on the inside. He felt the same way about her now as he had then, scars and all. Neither of them were perfect. Their world was not a happy, flawless utopia, yet it didn't matter. But because he loved her and she loved him, everything would at least be okay.
The End