The whimpering is driving me mad. I'm ready to be done with these brats. Leave it to my piece of trash sister to dump her fucking kids on me after getting tossed in prison, making it impossible for me to live a day without their incessant whining and needs. I can't get a job to feed the filthy things because who wants a junkie? So they can starve for all I care.
Lighting up the homemade pipe, I inhale the delicious toxin that frees me from this miserable life I'm forced to endure. The damn government check barely supports my drug habits, and those brats are my only source of income right now.
The belt still swings on the wall, lightly scraping the cracked sheetrock, reminding the children inside the locked room of what I just finished doing. They'll learn to keep their fucking mouths shut in front of people outside the home, or I'll leave them with more bruises to hide.
I breathe in deeply, inhaling the one thing that always makes it better, and I smile as the first taste of the high starts to creep in. I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of it, enjoying the moment of reprieve I have.
But then a bubbling knot forms in my throat, and I cough ferociously, hacking and flailing in my chair in an attempt to catch a breath of air. When my eyes fly open, I attempt to gasp, but it's cut off.
A dark-haired girl wearing tattered jeans and a malevolent grin is stalking toward me, and I can't move. I try to scream for help, but my words refuse to form or escape my lips. All I can muster is a pathetic squeak I can barely hear.
She cracks her neck to the side, licks her lips like she's hungry, and then she waves her hand in a circular motion. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I can feel something burning against me. It hurts. Damn, it hurts. I can't even cry or find any release. It feels like I've been glued in place and frozen.
She lowers her hand, letting her smile creep up more, and then she heads to the locked room where the children are stashed. My eyes attempt to widen in more shock when she crushes the padlock in her hand and drops the shattered pieces to the floor. That's not possible! That's not human!
She's a demon, or a monster, or something evil. Please, God, let her take the kids and leave me alone.
I struggle harder, trying to break free from my invisible restraints, but it's pointless. My only prayer is that she's here for the children, not for me.
"Come on," she coaxes, gently motioning for the kids to come out of the dark room.
Her smile seems more genuine, possibly affectionate. Some predatory creatures wear disguises to lure in their prey.
The children warily creep out, looking in my direction. I expect them to at least show some fucking concern, but they act as though they can't even see me. Brats!
"There's a taxi waiting outside for you. Get in. The driver will take you where you need to go," she murmurs softly, making me sick to my stomach.
No. Shit, no. She's not here for the children. This demon wants me!
I have to be high. I've had some nasty trips on this shit before. Hal gave me spoiled goods to punish me for being so late with my payments. That fucking son of a bitch.
Calm down, Mary. It's just a terrible trip.
"Mary doesn't let us go out," Karrie whispers, shouldering her brother to step up and take over.
Before June can add anything, the dark-haired hallucination speaks again.
"Mary won't be taking care of you anymore."
Every inch of my body suddenly feels covered in invisible spiders that are crawling in a frenzy. I want so badly to claw at my skin, get rid of the vicious insects I can't see, but I still can't move. I've never wanted to come down from a high so bad in all my life.
It all feels so real, but it always does, and then I come down to learn it isn't.
She does something, making the kids sway as though they're suddenly as high as I am.
"Do you understand?" she asks.
"Yes," they all say in zombie-like unison.
She smirks, and then she walks to the door to open it. Those ungrateful pieces of shit are just going to leave me here. They're not even trying to save me.
I manage to whimper, but they still don't acknowledge I'm even in the room. The burning against my skin grows stronger, the tiny crawling sensations quicken, and my heart tries to explode when she shuts the door behind them and turns her attention back on me.
"A mother should love her children. Not abuse them."
I try to tell her I'm not their damn mother. A tear slips out when I can't utter a single sound. I'm only catching a fraction of the breath I need with each inhale. This can't be real.
The kids would have said something, possibly even tried to help me, if this was real. They didn't even act like they could see me.