Mary would spend as much time with Chloe as her patient load would allow while Chloe was in the hospital, even bringing her food from a fast food chain so she wouldn’t have to eat the horrible hospital food. At one point Carol showed up for a few minutes, and after sizing her up, Mary determined that Chloe was right. Her mother was a worthless whore. She hated sending Chloe back home with her but what could she do?
Two days later Chloe was released from the hospital. The doctors were still undecided about the surgery and decided that they would rather wait a few weeks and do more scans and tests before they removed the parasite. There was some concern about shared blood flow and possible neurological damage. So, Chloe, with a bag of prescriptions for the pain and nausea, was dropped off at home.
Chloe wandered to her room. She opened the door, noting that it smelled a little musty, and looked abandoned. It was amazing what a couple of days away could do to one’s perception. She stripped, leaving her clothing on the floor. She wasn’t normally one to leave a mess, but she was exhausted and hadn’t bathed in two days, and still had gel stuck to her skin from the electrodes and other things that had been attached to her during testing. Bottom line, she felt gross and could think of nothing else but a shower.
She walked into the small dingy bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Chloe looked pale, and her eyes seemed darker to her as she brushed her hair, doing her best to get the tangles out from the gel and laying in the bed at the hospital. When she was satisfied that her hair was as tangle free as she could get it, she stepped into the shower.
The hot water felt relaxing as she let two days’ worth of grime wash away. When she felt human again, she went to her room, choosing a tank top and panties to wear. She lay down on the bed thinking she would just take a quick nap.
Four hours later Chloe woke up. It was dark. She couldn’t believe she had slept that long.
Oh well, she thought, I didn’t sleep well in the hospital, and the meds make me tired so I guess it is what it is.
Chloe tried to get up to go to the bathroom but felt dizzy, and pain shot through her head. She fell back on the bed grateful that it was there to catch her instead of the hard floor. She tried getting up more slowly and succeeded; as she stood there wobbly, nauseous, head still pounding, but she didn’t pass out or collapse.
“OK, I can do this.” She muttered to herself hoping that she really could.
The doctors said she might have times like this, and other times feel more like herself. She staggered to the door and slid down the hallway to the bathroom. Her head was pounding; she flopped onto the toilet seat weakly. When she was finished, she washed her hands and face, hoping to feel a little more refreshed. She made her way to the kitchen to find her mother and two men engaged on the couch in the living room. Her mother was on her hands and knees taking one on each end. Her moans were muffled by the man in her mouth. None of them acted like they even noticed that she was there.
How could she be this way?
Disgusted and pissed off, she stomped to the refrigerator yanking the door open, the light nearly blinding her in the dark house. She grabbed the juice container and her meds.
How in the hell could she act like a common whore right out in the living room, she fumed as she slammed and banged around?
She stalked back to her room pissed off that her mother and her men hadn’t even noticed she was there, and she had seen them as they rutted like animals.
Back in the relative safety of her room Chloe took her meds and called Brad before it was too late. He had visited her in the hospital and they had talked on the phone. Brad and his family were one of the few bright spots in Chloe’s life. They had talked about getting married, but Chloe wanted to wait until after college. Sometimes, though, she wanted to go away with Brad and start over, far away from her mother. But for now, she needed to finish high school and have this surgery. It sucked being an adult age-wise and yet still be trapped by circumstances. Just a few more months and she would be free.
Brad was asleep when she called, so she told him to go back to bed and that she loved him. Not wanting to be any more alone than she was, she called Carmen. She had met Carmen at an after-school program when she was younger, and the two had become close. Carmen was much more a mother to Chloe than her own. Over the years they had maintained close contact, and Chloe tried to visit Carmen at least once a month.
Carmen was still up, and the two talked at length about everything that was happening in their lives. Chloe with her medical condition and Carmen with an upcoming C-section for the birth of her first child. The baby’s father decided he wasn’t interested in being a parent, but Carmen was determined to have the baby and build a life for them. Being a social worker, she made little money, but Carmen was a loving and nurturing person. Chloe felt sure the child would grow up happy and healthy with Carmen as its mother.
The two hung up after an hour of laughing and carrying on with plans that Chloe would come help Carmen after her C-section, which was planned for a week from now. Chloe lay in bed happier than she had been despite hearing the drunken party going on out in the living room. She really hated her mother. She didn’t want to hate her, but Carol didn’t leave her much choice with her behavior and attitudes.
Chloe lay in the dark wanting to go to sleep but just couldn’t after her nap. She was still exhausted and expected she would be for at least a few days. She laid there thinking about everything going on in her life. Chloe would graduate soon and then be off to college. What of Brad? Would they be able to survive until college was over? She hoped so, but also knew the future was more important than a high school romance, even though the thought of losing it killed her inside.
As she lay there contemplating these things and more, she heard someone call her name. Thinking it was her mom she called back.
“Yeah?”
No answer came. Frustrated, she went out to the living room. Her mother and “friends” were mostly dressed and passing a joint between them.
“Mom, did you call me?” Chloe huffed at her, giving her the stink eye as she stood there watching her mother take a hit off the joint.
“No Chloe, no one’s called you.” Carol took another drag and coughed as she passed it on.
Confused, Chloe headed back to her room. As she walked down the hallway, she passed the bathroom and swore she saw someone standing there in the dark. She could make out no details but could faintly see the outline of a man. She froze in terror, but the figure seemed to fade away into the darkness.
I must be imagining things?
Still feeling creeped out, she continued back to her room. Flopping on the bed she wondered what was happening to her. The room grew cold. She pulled the cover over herself thinking she was just getting tired again. Out of the darkness, the shadow she had seen in the bathroom emerged. Chloe cried out in fear but no one heard her in the other room. With nothing else to do, she covered her head, praying that the thing would go away.
When she woke up the next morning, the sun was out and made her head pound. She wasn’t sure when she got to sleep but it felt like it must have been nearly daylight before the shadow figure left her. She hid under the covers not wanting to see it, but it whispered in her ears anyhow. It spoke horrible, vile things to her, and then would switch and speak encouraging and affirming words, and then would tell her how worthless she was—how she was no different than her mother.
Chloe got out of the bed feeling worse than when she had laid down. Her mother was passed out on the couch, her tits flopped out of her open robe exposing everything. Disgusted, Chloe walked by her trying not to look, but having already seen it, the image was burned into her brain.
Chloe rummaged around the kitchen looking for something to eat. There wasn’t much as usual. She opened the fridge. Beer. Figures, she thought as she slammed the door. Finally, she settled on a couple pieces of toast and a glass of milk.
She took her breakfast to her room. Chloe still felt creeped out by the event
s of the night before, but wasn’t sure if maybe she hadn’t just dreamed the whole thing. She hoped she had. The doctors had warned her that the meds would help somewhat with the pain and nausea, but that she would get worse even as she felt better. Maybe she was just going crazy?
She turned her laptop on and let it boot up while she ate and took her meds. The laptop was a gift from Carmen for school. She had given it to Chloe when her grades failed because she couldn’t do her reports and papers, and Carol constantly failed to get her to the library to get her work done. Carol wouldn’t or couldn’t buy Chloe a computer because that would require her to keep a job. So, Carmen had used her credit card and bought the machine for Chloe and had spared no expense, hoping that it would get her most of the way through college too. Carmen had told her they would cross that bridge when the computer wore out.
Chloe checked her email and her Facebook page for messages and commented on a few posts. She emailed her teachers and explained that she would be out of school until after the surgery. Hopefully, they would send her assignments so she could try to stay caught up; as she was on the honor roll and wanted to stay there.
She surfed the internet until her head started hurting and checked the time. Damn, it was time for more pills. She made her way to the kitchen. Her pills lay strung out on the table. The bottles open and laying on their sides.
“What the fuck?”
She picked the pills up, hoping she put the right ones in the right bottles.
Who the hell did this, she wondered aloud.
She got the pills picked up and her dose taken. She wondered if her mom had gone through her pills she was addicted to pain killers. Was she still drunk? It was the only rational explanation that Chloe could come up with as she went back to the living room. She hadn’t realized her mother wasn’t on the couch anymore and walked down the hallway. It felt cold—freezing cold—to her. She also had the sensation that someone was watching her. It was eerie.
Maybe one of mom's pieces of ass are still here, she fumed to herself.
Chloe reached Carol’s room finding Carol passed out on the bed, naked again, with her legs spread wide. How fitting! Chloe stomped to her room, slamming the door, not caring if she woke her mother up or not. She flopped back on her bed, laying there pissed off. She could hear footsteps stomping down the hall after her. Thinking it was her mother, she waited anxiously. She was so going to give her a piece of her mind.
The steps stopped at the door to Chloe’s door but Carol never came in. Why was she standing outside the door? Chloe thought it was strange, even for her mother. Frustrated and wanting her chance to vent her anger, Chloe leaped from the bed and jerked open the door. There was nothing there except blackness. Chloe felt herself get swallowed up by it and hit the floor.
Chloe woke up feeling groggy and confused. She sat up wincing at the pain in her head. How long had she been out, she wondered? The sun was setting; she could tell by the dim light filtering in. Damn, she had been out all day. She was thankful to be awake, but why hadn’t her mom helped her up and into her bed?
Chloe crawled to her bed. She felt weak. The doctors had told her she might have fainting spells, but what about the blackness that had consumed her, or the sounds of footsteps in the hall?
“Mom,” she called out, hoping to god she wasn’t alone. There was no answer.
“Mom!” she screamed, growing frightened.
Then, relief rolled over her as she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Thank god, her mom was here! The footsteps stopped just short of her room.
“Mom?”
Panic came flooding back.
The blackness from before exploded into the room, enveloping her, pushing her back onto the bed. She could feel unseen hands on her throat, shutting the air off. She felt other hands on her breasts and between her legs; groping, squeezing, penetrating.
Chloe woke up for the second time after being attacked and had had enough. She called Carmen back and begged her to come and get her. She told her she was frightened, and her mother still wasn’t staying home despite all that she was going through. She couldn’t handle being alone. Carmen agreed to come at once and was happy to have the company and the needed help to get ready for her upcoming C-section.
Chloe sat with her backpack and a small suitcase, waiting for Carmen to arrive when Carol came home, staggering drunk.
“Where the hell have you been?” Chloe began the interrogation.
“I’ve been out,” Carol slurred. “What business is it of yours?”
Carol was unsure what this outburst was about, but fuck if it wasn’t always something with Chloe. Carol couldn’t wait until Chloe went to college. It would be the end of listening to her bitch and nag constantly. Didn’t Chloe know she was doing the best she could?
“I can’t believe you would just leave me alone when I have all this going on?”
Tears were silently sliding down Chloe’s cheeks.
“What the hell do you have going on?” Carol demanded.
“What do I have going on?”
Chloe couldn’t believe her ears.
“I have a thing growing in my brain, mother. I see things, hear things, I pass out when this blackness over takes me, and you left me on the floor so you could go out whoring around again.”
Carol stepped forward and slapped Chloe, leaving a handprint on her cheek. Not because of the disrespect, but because of the truth of her statement. She didn’t like the way the truth felt.
“I’m your mother,” Carol shouted. “Don’t you dare talk that way to me!”
Chloe held her burning cheek, tears flowing, voices in her head egging her on to attack—to get even. It sounded good. There was so much over the years that had hurt Chloe; years of Carol’s abuse, neglect, drama and dysfunction. Before she knew it, Chloe was flying at Carol, riding her to the floor. She threw fist after fist at her mother, years of pain and disappointment dissipating with each blow, the voice in her head screaming at her to murder. But Chloe stopped. She didn’t want to kill her mother. She wanted her to stop, to care, to love her like a mother should—and the voice scared her. Where did it come from, and how was it so loud and so clear when there was no one there?
Chloe climbed off her mother. Carol lay bleeding, gasping, and sobbing.
“Get the hell out of here,” she wailed. “I never want to see you again!”
“Go fuck yourself, mother!” Chloe lashed out, upset both by Carol’s actions and her own.
Luckily, Carmen pulled up and honked, and Chloe stormed out of the house. Carmen listened quietly as they drove along. Chloe would stay with her she was eighteen she didn’t need Carol's permission anyhow. She would make sure Chloe had the surgery and went on with her life and escaped her rough start in life.
The two of them rode the rest of the way making plans for their future separately and together. They both had dreamed of this day but had given up hope thinking it was too late. They got home and together made ready for the arrival of Carmen’s baby.
A week later
Chloe stood in the living room holding Carmen’s baby rocking it back and forth trying to keep it content. She gazed down at the angelic face. The little boys’ dark hair was almost feathery like down. The little pout of Andrews’s lips added to the overall sensation, causing Chloe’s natural mothering instincts to take over; she could feel it from her head to her womb. She held the baby closer, vowing in her own mind she would protect this young life with her own if need be.
Chloe held the baby lovingly as she sat down in the rocking chair. She sat there for what seemed like forever, afraid to move and have the baby wake up crying again; as she watched the tiny chest rise and fall with the rhythm of the rocker.
As she rocked murderous thoughts invaded her psyche. She was horrified by the words that screamed in her mind. She fought hard against the evil suggestions; her own thoughts were of love and protection, but these other thoughts? She had no clue where they came from, only that she hated them when they
came over her, and they had been coming consistently since the day she had attacked her mother. Chloe hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not wanting to be thought of as crazy. She hoped that the surgery would take care of it. If she could just hold on until the date was set, then maybe she would be back to normal.
The voices grew silent for a few seconds and Chloe savored the moment of peace, but soon they were back. This time the voices were sweet and loving, encouraging her natural mother instincts, which made her grow even more attached to the child. She looked down on the sleeping babe and felt a love different from anything she had felt before. She felt a need to protect and nurture that was overpowering. All of this gave her a sense of contentment she had never experienced until this moment. It was all so primal, and it felt good.
She pulled her T-shirt up, placing the baby to her breast. The baby suckled greedily, but no milk came, the baby fidgeted. As Chloe continued to try to get the baby to nurse, the voices came back with a vengeance, mocking her.
“What kind of mother would you be? You can’t even feed it. How are you ever going to take care of it? Its mother will take it from you and throw you out and call the police.”
She couldn’t handle the thought of Carmen or anyone taking the baby from her.
“No!” She sobbed. “Don’t take my baby!”
Her mind screamed. If she had been in her right mind, she would have been terrified with her thoughts. In her grief, she pressed the baby to her breast harder in an insane need for it to nurse, for her to be a good mother, to break the cycle she had lived through, she wanted to overcome what her mother had raised her to be. She did not realize she was cutting off the baby’s air.
The baby struggled to breathe but could not escape the psychotic hold that Chloe had on it. Suddenly, Andrew stopped moving. Believing the child was sleeping, Chloe continued to hold the dead child to her breast.
Carmen woke up having to pee but dreading the thought of getting up. Wetting the bed wasn’t an option either. She eased herself into a sitting position. She struggled to keep from moaning as she got into position, but damn it, the incision and her insides hurt like hell! Once she was sitting up on the edge of the bed, the rest wouldn’t be so bad, but getting there was no fun.
Primrose & Brimstone Page 2