Theme: Psychological Thriller
Story by: Siti Aishah, @punyolive
I woke up feeling dejected again this afternoon. Drowsily, I drew the curtains open and the sunlight forced me to squint my eyes. Vague memories charged me as I tried to remember the last time I walked outside under the warmth of the sun. It’s been so long. Ever since Ma’s car skidded along the highway and the lorry hit, I’ve been taking care of her. It was raining heavily that night and it was my fault she drove out of the house. My mother had always blamed herself that she was the cause of his death, believing she could’ve alleviated his pain if only she were home more. After his death, she took it to heart to always protect me from any disappointment or pain. She made decisions for me, prepared my meals so I would stay healthy, and drove me anywhere I had to go to make certain I was safe. As a child at the tender age of 7, losing a father was a difficult transition to move into and I loved having my mother be by my side.
But, as I grew older, I desired independence and trust. I wished my mother would have faith in me to stand on my own two feet and make decisions for myself. Those were the sentiments that I shouted at her the night she left the house in resentment. Four hours later, I received a phone call from the police informing me that my mother was in critical condition. I only remember driving straight to the hospital to see her. Everything was blurry and it felt surreal seeing my mother, ashen and bloodied on the bed. I was on the edge of losing my mother, the one person who was always on the lookout for me. Like a snake, guilt slithers around my body, suffocating me. The thought of a life without my mother hurt me so much that I couldn’t bear the pain.
Five months later, the memory of our fight still haunted me like a nightmare that dwelled in my dreams. After taking a shower, I changed into a shirt and a pair of sweatpants and went over to my mother’s bed. The sun was at its peak and light streamed through the window, making the white tiles of the hospital room glisten. My mother was still asleep soundlessly. She looked peaceful and her long black hair accentuated her skin, making it fairer than usual. My mother shifted in her bed and by reflex, I immediately rushed to her side. On account of the accident, my mother suffered serious injuries that left her paralyzed from the waist down. Similar to how she blamed herself for my father’s death, I blamed myself that she was now half immobilized. I vowed to look after her for the rest of my life the night she woke up from her one-week coma.
Reading has always been a great part of our lives and it’s one of the activities we used to do together. To keep the tradition alive, I always read to her as she fell asleep. I picked up a book from the nightstand, and read it out loud as I sat beside her. Ma adored classics and had a vast collection of books in her mini library at home. I couldn’t decide which one was her favorite so I placed different books on her bedside table weekly for me to read to her.
Rapidly the hours flew by and the sun was already setting, paving the way for the moon and stars. My mother hadn’t made a sound and I was almost to the end of the book. As I reached the final pages, I looked up and noticed she had woken up, but anger contorted her face. My mother’s livid face was suddenly hollow and expressed nothing of the serenity that held her as she was sleeping. Her dark brown eyes that used to look at me with care were now bloodshot with hatred. My heart scrambled and floundered inside my rib cage, worrying if I did something wrong again. Before a word could come out of my mouth, my mother jumped from her bed and wrapped her fingers around my neck. She was strangling me and breathing was getting difficult. Our bodies tumbled to the floor and with her sheer strength, she tightened her grip around my neck as I struggled to shove her away with my arms. When I finally succeeded in pushing her away from me, I scrambled to the corner of the room by the window in an attempt to hide from her.
The room was pitch black but every inch of my body feels my mother’s eyes on me. I huddled on my knees and shut my eyes as I screamed with all my might, hoping to keep her away and that the nurses could hear me. Dizzy and breathless, I begged my mother to stop taunting me and apologized for her fate. Accidents happen but the impossibility of turning back time crushed my heart further. My mother never woke up from her coma and now she was seeking revenge. I opened my eyes and Ma charged at me. I crossed my arms over my body but she kept thrashing and scratching me. My mother’s nails dug into my skin and it stung. I cried and apologized again and again to her but all that did was fuel her rage. She finally caught hold of my hair and dragged me across the floor. The slapping and scratching finally stopped and I dared to open my eyes again. My mother was standing over me, infuriated. “You killed me,” she whispered menacingly and tears continued to stream down my face. My mother strangled me again and I screamed for help.
The door to the room burst open and two figures in white clothes came scrambling to me. Fluorescent light from the outside forced Ma to vanish into thin air but I still cowered in fear on the floor. Panting and shaking, I knew my mother was going to come back for revenge again. She believed that it was my fault. I frantically warned the nurses who were helping me get up but they merely told me to calm down. They helped me lie down on the bed and started talking in unfathomable medical terms. But, there was my mother again in her black dress, standing by the door with her deathly eyes staring at me. I warned the nurses about her and tried to free myself from their grasps but they were strong. My mind throbbed and the beating sound of my heart grew louder.
Another nurse in white entered the room while pushing a metal trolley with syringes and pills in tiny plastic cups. The nurses by the bed were trying to keep my body still as someone with a syringe full of clear liquid injected my arm. “Please, help me. My mother is in this room and wants me dead,” I sobbed. The tallest figure stroked my head and told me to relax. Her soothing voice reminded me to breathe and count until ten as my consciousness drifted into a long, dreamless sleep.
