Author’s Notes: Heed. The. Tags. Please. This story is really triggering and just upsetting. Please do not read it if you’re not prepared to witness a mother brutally betray her innocent son. I’m open to commentary if you want to DM me. Yes, this is me working through things. No, it’s not exactly based on real events, except if you squint really hard.
It was close to midnight. Connor was in bed and under the covers, but still texting Markus, even though he said he should sleep two hours ago. He was grinning, just to have Markus’ attention, knowing he was also staying awake only for his company. It would have been better if they could have been together, physically, but Connor’s mother would never have allowed him to sleep over at a friend’s house. She didn’t trust him, even though she had no good reason not to.
Connor never snuck out. He didn’t smoke, or drink, or party, or any of the things that typical teenagers might have done. He was eighteen and restless, but he still did what he was told. Soon, he would go to university, whichever one he wanted, he had his pick. He’d been texting excitedly with Markus, discussing their options, since they wanted to go to the same school. He counted the days until he would be free.
His heart was so full, he felt it might burst. For the first time in his life, he was truly convinced that he could finally be independent from his oppressive home life and controlling mother. He was really going to be free! He could speak his mind without fear, spend time with who he wanted without her criticism, do what he liked, when he liked. If Markus wanted the same thing, (and Connor was pretty sure he did,) he could even kiss him whenever he wanted to.
With all these thoughts swirling in his head, and Markus’ last few ‘goodnight’ messages warming his heart, he finally drifted off to sleep... Unfortunately, his bliss would be short lived.
The end of his life as he knew it was fast approaching.
It was still dark when she came into his room, only an hour after he’d fallen asleep, phone in hand. His mother ran a gentle hand through his curly hair, pulling back the covers just so. “Connor?” she called to him sweetly, setting down a warm cup of tea by his bedside. “Wake up, my dear... I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
He was awake, at the moment she touched him, stirring even as she stepped into his space. A little growl started in his throat, as he sat himself upright. “Wha’s wrong- ?” he grumbled, yawning, “Wha happen?” He was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, inarticulate and groggy, but willing to help, if he could.
Amanda shook her head slowly, “Wake up first, and I’ll tell you everything... Here,” she placed the warm cup in his hands, “Drink this.” It smelled nice; a little bit spicy, slightly floral. It didn’t occur to him not to drink it. He took a sip, testing the temperature and taste. When all seemed well with it, he gulped it down, thirsty after his brief nap. Once it was gone, he looked up at her again, slowly regaining his senses.
“Is everything okay?” he asked again, feeling the weight of an unknown impending doom.
“I’m so sorry, Connor,” she began, but there was something unkind in her tone, buried beneath the false niceties. He was scared; something really was very wrong. “Come with me. I’ll explain on the way.”
“What?” he started, confused, but the way her eyes grew cold at his hesitance, made him hurry out of bed anyway. “I’ll get dressed-”
“Hurry up,” she returned sharply. Connor recoiled, but obeyed, throwing on his pants and a button-up without even trying to tuck his shirt in. He was pulling on his jacket when he stepped out of his room, startled by his mother’s immediate presence. There was something deeply troubling about her in general, but tonight it was worse than he’d ever encountered. Something terrible must have happened. He didn’t dare to question her further, but simply followed silently behind as she made her way out to the car.
He hesitated, before getting in, glancing down the street and thumbing the phone in his pocket. He could run, the thought sprang to mind, but he dismissed it as madness. What would he be running from? His hand was trembling slightly when he touched the handle, something inside of him was screaming, ‘run,’ but he dismissed it again as an irrational impulse brought on by his stressed and sleepy brain.
He got into the car and buckled up, glancing to his mother for some sign of reassurance, of something, but she didn’t even look at him. He felt small and scared, like he was a child again, being dragged off to whatever it was she wanted to do that day, having no say in the matter. One last time, he thought about simply exiting the car and running off, calling Markus and just- leaving, but he stayed put, afraid of the consequences if he dared to disobey.
This was the moment that would haunt his dreams in the years to come. The way he went willingly, compliant and docile. He couldn’t have known what was about to happen, but he would later regret not listening to his impulse to run.
The car ride was tense, but he was getting sleepy again, his vision blurry. He felt nauseated and a little dizzy, the traffic lights a haze of color and motion. “P-pull over, please. I’m gonna... I’m gonna be sick-”
“Do not throw up in my car, Connor,” she snapped, but did not pull over.
He felt like he’d been slapped, his fear redoubled. With trembling hands, he reached for his phone, but once he pulled it out and began trying to text Markus, she took it, and tossed it into the backseat. Connor felt like he was in slow motion, his motor skills decreased, his stomach lurching at the slightest movement. “W-why?” he gaped at her, his terror mounting.
“You don’t need to make any calls right now,” she stated plainly, her tone like ice in his veins.
His breath came ragged. He wanted to question her out loud, but his tongue felt as thick as the fog that clouded his mind. Soon after, he lost consciousness.
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