Read Chapter One of The Fate of Reality
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Danny opened his eyes to see the dim lightbulb swinging far above his head. As the room began to spin, he sank deeper into the cold hard concrete where he lay. Time moved slower, too, like God had put his thumb on the world, and all reality began to blur as Danny tried to remember the past half hour.
His arm stung where he was cut and bleeding, but the blood around him that spattered his face and covered his blue t-shirt was not his alone.
His shaking, blood-soaked hands trembled with fear, power, and exhilaration for what he’d done.
Blood thickened on his fingertips—he could taste the salt and copper on his tongue—and sweat dripped pink from his brow.
When he gained enough courage to turn his head, he saw her there across the room where he’d left her. His mother lay still, quiet, and unable to judge him. She would never judge or belittle him again.
Despite the fog in his mind, he was fully aware of what he’d done. He’d finally killed her. And nothing in the world was going to change that. Not that he wanted to. But it just seemed so final. He had changed his world, and there was no going back.
He sat up and scooted against the wall. And while he stared at the bloody floor, footsteps sounded over his head.
“Vera?” called a feminine voice. “Vera, honey, are you down there?” The steps and voice came closer, and it sent Danny’s heart racing.
She was down there, alright, lying in a pool of blood with her face completely rearranged by a brick. It lay on the floor next to her in two pieces that were now soaked in her blood and brains—the rough edges had chipped against her bones.
The door opened a sliver, spilling light in from upstairs, and Danny drew his gawky fourteen-year-old limbs in tight against his chest and curled into a ball. If he curled tight enough, perhaps she wouldn’t see him there. Perhaps he could disappear.
But when the scream pierced his ears, he knew it was too late. “Danny? Oh my God, Danny! What have you done!”
The light from above shadowed her face, but not enough for him to miss the horror that crossed her expression.
Those words rang through his ears as if they had been spoken through a long tube, and the reverberation lasted well after she was gone. She had run back up the stairs as if her life depended on it.
With his chest heaving, he moved toward his mother, crouching on all fours. She had been transformed. Now it was time for her to finish the transformation and fly.
The concrete floor of the basement bit into his knees as he crawled across the room. His hands trembled thinking about that heavy brick and what he had done with it.
He had chipped away at her, just as she had chipped away at him. With the constant digs at his self-esteem, he had withstood as much as he could bear, but when the verbal turned physical, he had done what he felt he had to do. He had taken the brick from the basement floor and struck her from behind.
She had made a sound when he hit her, low and guttural, and the force quickly knocked her to the floor. But the devil didn’t die easily.
She had regained her wits and rolled over to look up at him. He’d stood there with the brick, his body thrumming like a live wire.
“You useless little bastard,” she had said. “You’ve always been a disappointment, but this is a new low, even for you.” She had touched her forehead and looked at the blood on her fingers. “Clearly, I’ve been too lenient with you. If my lessons fall on deaf ears, I’ll have to teach louder.”
He had hit her again and she’d finally looked afraid. His mother had crawled away from him then, making noises like a wounded animal.
He had never seen her like that. For once, she wasn’t in control. He was. Having the power to bring the helplessness out of her made him wonder what other emotions she had hidden beneath. Everyone was hiding something.
She had gripped her chair as she tried to get to her feet. He’d kicked it away from her, and she’d sprawled onto her back.
She smiled cruelly up at him. “You’ll pay for this—”
It was the last thing his mother ever said to him.
His third strike had cracked her skull with a sound like a gun shot. Her smile had disappeared into the sunken cavity that used to be her face.
He looked into that empty anonymous face now. Maybe someone would make sense of it. A doctor, perhaps? A mortician?
He dipped his hand in her open skull like a paintbrush and dragged the color across the floor until he had created one long wing that stretched out from her body.
Danny crawled over her, careful not to disturb her. His mother had never looked more at peace.
He recreated the wing on her other side and sat back, admiring his work until his vision grew blurry and he lost all time.
Sometime later, the door opened again. Only this time, it wasn’t his mother’s friend who came to see her—it was the police.
An officer shined his light into the room, and it hit Danny’s eyes. He winced, holding up his hand to shield himself from it. The policeman came closer, training his gun on him.
“Don’t move! Put both hands where I can see them!”
Danny did as he was instructed and was quickly taken into custody. As they led him away, he took one look back at his mother and smiled. Wherever he was going, he was sure it was much better than being with her.
Now they were both free.
