Dating : “And you know I will always be there” … said my mother, as I eased into her comforting arms.

“And you know I will always be there” … said my mother, as I eased into her comforting arms. Her scent made me feel safe and reassured. Her gaze was enough to put the courage back in me, or at least I felt a little less horrified.

It is unusual for most 15 year boys to be scared of the dark… But I was always different. I found myself being frightened of pretty much every supernatural thing you could think of.
There was a different way in which I saw the world… Not your normal school, homework, parties, fun kind of world but a rather fearsome world filled with eerie sounds, darkness and paranormal creatures.

My father was a military man. Always told me to suck it up and stay strong, even when the illusions started getting worse. I was 9 at the time and was in desperate need of someone to understand me. But since, I was an only child and had no sibling, it was hard for me to confide about these things to my father. As he would always say to me “Courage doesn’t mean you don’t get afraid, it means you don’t let your fear stop you..”. Those words may have meant a great deal to him, but to me, they were nothing more than a hollow attempt to pacify me.

My mother understood this side of me. She was always there when I needed her. She hugged me, calmed me down and it made the world less horrid. She is the one person whom I know, I can tell my strange nightmares to.

My mother wanted my dad to be a little more involved with me where as he wanted her to stop being so defensive toward me and let me face my fears on my own. They would argue about it almost every night. Frankly, I liked the noises. It felt safe knowing they are awake.

My parents tried to cure me of this fear lot many times. They installed night lights in my room, took me in with them when I was afraid of sleeping alone, got me treated by many psychiatrists but all in vain. Eventually, my father decided that I will get over this fear on my own.
I had trouble making friends at school, it got bad after I started having hallucinations and was branded as the weird kid in school.

I couldn’t wait to reach home to my mother. We had the best of times together. She had this old guitar back from when she was in a band in college. She taught me how to play it. She would hum songs and play a few notes. Her favorite was “Hey Judy” by the Beatles. She would always sing that to me.

“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain
Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders
For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.”

When I feel a panic attack setting in, I remind myself of the way she plays the guitar. the way she strummed those strings, her smile when she sang. Slowly, I see myself recovering and breathing and calming down. I wish I could get rid of these feelings. But I feel helpless and agitated.

The prescriptions given to me weren’t of much help. They zonk me out completely making me incapable of moving, but the thoughts inside my head just don’t stop. I slip into a spiral and wake up the next day feeling thirsty and restless.

I woke up today to the smell of omelette and bread. My favorite. Every Sunday, my mom would make it. I freshened up and rushed to the kitchen. “Mom, I want the sides cut off”. She smiled. I switched the TV on to my favorite channel. “Oh, I forgot to tell her about the project that was due on Monday”. I got up and headed to the kitchen to ask my mother, if she could help me with it. Instead, I could only see my father in the kitchen.

“Dad, where is mom? I want to ask her something.”
“She is just gone to the grocery store. “he said.
“Hmm. Ok.”
“What is it? You can ask me” he said.
“Just some school work. Nothing important”, I answered.

They had a huge argument last night, nothing like before. I didn’t think much of it. And continued with the Addams family movie.

About half an hour later, my dad yelled “Get in the kitchen, the breakfast is ready”
I ran with the speed of light. He was seated on the dining table. I came and sat next to him. I waited for mom to come and join us. My father said “Let’s dig in”.
“But mom is still not here “I panicked.
He said with an angry look “Just start without her.”

I waited. He finished the breakfast and started to do the dishes. Mom would usually do them.
I went outside to see if she was on her way back. When I didn’t find her on the road, I came back in. I started searching for her in the bedrooms. I saw a few blood-stained bedsheets in the pile of laundry. Fear started to settle in. I shouted “Dadddddd!!!!!” and the next thing I remember is being woken up on the bed with doctors surrounding me.

I couldn’t feel my body and was unable to move. I started panicking. I called out for my mom. But words never made it out of my mouth.
“Patient is awake. Call the father in”.
I could see my dad with a worried look on his face. I asked him with all the energy I could muster up “W..Whherrree i..is Momm ?” And I slipped into another spiral of nightmares.

I heard a familiar sound. Those strings, the beats

“Hey Jude …..”

“Mommm…” I opened my eyes and found her next to me playing the same song.
“Mom, where did u go ? I was searching for u all over the place”. She smiled as always. I listened to her and closed my eyes. The music stopped suddenly.
“What happened mom? Please play it again. I want to hear it” I said, as I opened my eyes. And was stumped at what stood in front of me.

She was covered in blood with the guitar in her hand, mouthing words, hard for me to comprehend. She moved away slowly. I cried… shouted and tried to hold onto her. But I couldn’t move, as if something was pulling me away from her. I tried my best and was able to force myself out of the pull and I ran towards her. She stood next to my dad’s bed and shrieked “You did it….. Youuuuuu!!!!!”. I let out a huge cry and found my dad hugging me on the hospital bed.
It was a nightmare. But I was sure that mom was not safe..

After a couple of days in hospital, I was brought back home. My dad took care of me. He fed me and gave me my medications on time. I pretended to take them threw them out when he wasn’t there. He sat next to me and cried as I acted asleep. But no number of tears would get me to forgive you for what you did to her. I would look at the guitar. It still had a few spots of her blood on it. Made me feel that she is still next to me.

I vowed to get my father to confess his crime in front of police. I had to find, where he hid her body first.

The next day, he brought me breakfast and medications to my bed like he usually does. After he left for work, I got out of my bed and started searching for those blood-stained sheets. They were nowhere to be found. I looked in the closets, attic and every place I could think of, but it was all in vain. Then suddenly, I heard the washing machine running in the basement. The basement is a scary place and I would never imagine that I would ever have go there but this time I had to. There was no other choice.

As I neared to the washing machine, I could hear the beating of my heart and another sound. A muffled voice….

I looked inside the running washer from the glass. It was her. She was shouting. Saying something. Pointing towards me. She was in pain. I shut the washer down and opened it to get her out of it. Just then I heard my dad calling me from the kitchen. “Justin… Justin….” I panicked and ran on top. He pushed me angrily towards the basement door and yelled “Why were you in the basement? What the hell were u doing there?!!”

“What have you done to mommy?? Why is she stuffed in the washer?” I fought back. He panicked and said “Justin, come to your senses son. What have you done to yourself?” And tried to hug me. I pushed him back. I yelled “You murdered her. You killed her. Why dad… Whyyyy????” as I burst into tears.

“It’s not like that son. You need to come to terms with reality. Please wake up. Your mother has been dead for 6 years now…!!!”.

What is he talking about? Why is he saying that?

The memories started to rush in.

6 years ago. I was a 9-year-old boy, I remember the details vividly. She sang to me on her guitar, hugged me, said that it was all going to be ok. I smiled as I felt reassured. She was crying… a lot as she took some pills and went to sleep. The next I remember being in a graveyard, Dad crying and our Aunts hugging me and asking me to let it go. “She was schizophrenic” said one of my aunts to another family member. “Hope her family is going to be ok.” They all pitied me.

It all came back.

“No!…. No !! She cannot leave me. She said it was going to be ok. That she will always be there… She can’t lie to me.. You are lying .. You killed her … You are lying to me “ I shouted as kept pushing him away to the point where he fell off the basement stairs.

He was hurt and in pain. He groaned “Help me Justin…”
“You deserve it for what you did to her”. I closed the basement door.

I went to my parents’ bedroom and I saw her. “Mom.. I knew dad was lying. You would never leave me… I just knew it”. I sat next to her on the bed and hugged her as she played a familiar melody on the guitar.

We must have unified in that moment because I could only see the shadow of one person……

“Hey Jude, don’t let me down
You have found her, now go and get her
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better………..”

“I love you mommy!”

——–The end——-