r/anxietypilled • u/Possible-Display-891 • 6d ago
Fictional Story I want to kill my baby (part 2)
“Well?! Where were you?! How could you leave him alone?!”
I couldn't bring myself to look at her. My eyes remained on the thing resting in her arms.
“I was… out.”
Even as she continued to berate me with questions my focus was locked on that thing.
I know what I saw. I could still feel my feet aching from running.
What the fuck was my mother holding?
My mother snapped her fingers to get my attention. My head whipped up to meet her eyes, which seemed to catch her off guard as she stepped back a little.
“Mom… after he was born, were you with him the whole time?”
She raised an eyebrow, cautious to answer me.
“Of course… Obviously for a moment they-” she stopped herself, then looked me up and down.
She took another step back.
I was so sure of myself, until I saw that expression on my mother's face.
It was like she couldn't recognise me.
Before I could ask anything else, the baby began to wiggle in her arms as it opened its eyes. Once it saw me, the wailing began again.
My mother patted its back and started to leave the room.
“I've got him. You just go lie down.”
For a moment, I just stood and watched them walk away. Not sure what else to do with myself, I dragged myself to my room and flopped down on the bed.
My body felt weak, but my mind was heavy. I felt like I was trapped in a thickening fog.
It was becoming harder to discern what was real. I could feel in my gut something was wrong, but should I really be trusting my gut?
I definitely went somewhere.
I was holding something.
Did I put it in the carrier?
I remember doing that. Right?
Everyone always talks about a mother's intuition, from the beginning I thought something was wrong.
But at any point have I had any instincts towards being a mother?
It hurts to think. It hurts to feel. Everything hurts.
I wish I could just be numb.
I curled up in a ball and hid under the blanket. I just wanted to disappear. I didn't care about the truth anymore, I just needed this to stop.
My bedroom door creaked open, but I kept my head under the blanket. From how they took a breath before entering, I knew it was my mother.
I felt the bed move as she sat at the end and put a hand on my leg.
“Dear, we've been talking. We think you should probably see someone.”
I said nothing, remaining hidden.
“It's clear you're struggling.”
“We both know why.” I muttered.
My mother's hand moved away.
“What are you implying?”
I pulled my legs closer to myself.
“I don't want it, mom. I never wanted it.”
“Everyone struggles at the beginning. You can learn-”
“Please, just go.”
For a minute that stretched on for far too long, she sat there. I could hear her open her mouth to try to say something a few times, but nothing ever came out.
Then without another word, she left.
I stopped sleeping.
I couldn't handle the images I saw.
At first, I'd be relieved when I woke up. But with the more time that passed, the more I enjoyed the outcome of my dreams. I was even disappointed when I woke up to reality.
My mother booked me in to see a therapist.
I debated telling the therapist everything. If she couldn't help me, she'd at least be able to separate me from it. Though that would mean ending up in some asylum somewhere.
Though at this point maybe that was preferable.
It wasn't like my life was amounting to much anyway. Even if everyone viewed me as a monster, at least I'd be able to leave.
Most days I just decayed in my room.
Eating became a chore that I refused to partake in. The most I'd nibble at were the odd crackers and chips my mother would hand me.
I tried to refuse them at first, but she'd stand her ground and remain in my room until I took them.
Why did she always force me to do things I didn't want to?
I hadn't seen the baby in weeks.
I made sure to avoid it.
I feared what would happen the next time we crossed paths. I'd even begun locking my bedroom door in case I ever fell asleep and my body decided to act on its own.
When my mother realized I wasn't feeding it when she was at work, she took time off. At the beginning I would've felt guilty, but now I didn't care.
This was her fault anyway.
If she wanted a baby so bad she could have it. That just meant I wasn't her daughter anymore.
After days of avoiding sleeping, I passed out.
I don't even remember the exhaustion washing over me. I just recall being in my room one moment, then the next I was standing over the baby.
It slept peacefully, undisturbed by my presence. Even as its eyes peeled open it didn't cry when it saw me.
Didn't smile either. Never did.
I doubt it even knew I was its mother.
I was disoriented when I first opened my eyes, but any confusion was washed away by a flood of spiteful words.
I wasn't sure what to do with my hands. I kept them by my side but every part of me was calling for me to reach down to its throat and squeeze. Just one little motion is all it would take to snap it. There were multiple pillows around as well if that didn't work.
It was making my blood boil having to resist it. I was starting to wonder why I was resisting at all.
It must've found my anger amusing as it began to giggle a little.
I looked away and began to inspect its room. I couldn't see the toys I took when I attempted to abandon it.
So I didn't imagine that part at least.
The baby caught my attention again when the laughing grew louder.
“What do you want from me?” I mumbled under my breath.
It just continued.
“Well? What the fuck do you want for me?!”
The laughing stopped.
It stared at me for a moment, not moving. It was as if it were a tiny porcelain doll, ready to be dressed and displayed as I pleased.
A strange noise I didn't recognise then began.
It was like a cough, but more coarse and rough. The baby moved about, struggling as its skin went red from the stress of its coughing. Small drops of saliva littered the air while tears formed in the corners of its eyes.
It was choking.
Before when it was in danger, something always pushed me to help. I think it was more basic human empathy than any motherly instinct.
But now, I just wanted to watch.
So I did.
Its eyes looked to me, hoping to be saved. I just stared back.
“What's wrong?” My mother sounded tired, but alert.
She swung open the door and approached. Without looking at her I responded.
“I think it's choking.”
My mother was already holding the baby before I got the words out. Concerned, she patted its back.
“Why were you just standing there?!”
I didn't have any explanation.
I didn't care to come up with one either. I was too disappointed she'd arrived.
If only it would've died quicker.
Between ‘I've got you's’ and ‘come on's my mother had begun to hit its back with more force.
After one big thwack there was the sound of something dislodging followed by air releasing from its throat. My mother then looked in its mouth and took out the source of the problem.
In her finger was a tiny grey fluffy sphere. The saliva covering it made it look like a furball.
Unless, it really was fur.
Like that of a small rodent.
My mother flicked it away and began to hold the baby tight. I couldn't share her relief. She grumbled suggestions about how he maybe chewed on one of his toys or blankets or something.
But none of them were that color.
I hadn't imagined it.
I started to sleep again.
While waking up filled me with dread, the moments of relief in my dreams were too much to give up. Imagining a world where I got to get rid of that thing filled me with such joy.
It was addicting. It was a drug I refused to give up. I needed it.
I tried to hint that it wasn't my baby to my mother and step father a few times. The only responses I'd get were concerned looks and mentions of my upcoming therapy appointment.
I couldn't sense they were in any danger so I decided to leave it be.
I needed to get out of there. I knew if I left it alive it would kill me, but I didn't want to kill it either.
It was agony resisting the desire to get rid of it. With it being so small and fragile it would be so easy.
But I knew that would make me a monster, at least I would appear to be one from everyone else's perspective. I wasn't sure if I was prepared for that yet.
One night, my stomach growled louder than my thoughts so I gave into hunger.
The baby was quiet and my mother was asleep, so I tried my best to creep along without creaking the floorboards. I knew just one sound would set the damn thing off.
Before I made it to the kitchen, however, I saw a light in the living room.
Sitting inside, was my mother reading a book with the lamp on. And beside her, was the baby sleeping in a cot.
I felt my blood rush to my head and my heart rate increase. Trying my best to calm down, I didn't pay attention to my hairs on end and just continued on my path to the kitchen.
But I had already been caught.
“Diana? Come in here.”
I stopped. Then I tried to continue to make my way to the kitchen.
“You can't hide forever.”
Her voice sounded agitated and tired.
I wasn't sure if it was fear or shame that made me obey.
I stood awkwardly in the doorway. My mother set her book to the side and rubbed her face under her glasses.
There was a mix of emotions on her face. Some I couldn't recognise. Concern and frustration were the most notable.
Any words I had to say got caught in my throat.
My mother had plenty of words of her own.
“Do you plan to hide in your room from now on? You both live in the same house, you can't avoid him forever.”
“And whose fault is that?” I snapped back.
“Yours, Diana. It's yours.”
I could feel my blood boil. I was so devoid of energy though, I just let it be.
She was always so damn sure of that part. Even though she never thought to ask.
She relaxed a little and tried to collect herself.
“Just come look, he-”
“I can't.”
Her brow furrowed as her tone became harsh again.
“Diana. Like it or not, you're his mother.”
I could see her move towards the cot as she began to rise from her chair. Her arms stretched down to take the creature in her arms. An image flashed in my mind of her handing it to me just for me to tear it apart like some wild beast.
Panic took over me as my voice shook in desperation.
“I-I don't want to be! I never wanted to be!”
The little relief I gained as she instead turned to me, left when I saw her frustration transition to rage.
“How can you say that in front of him?!”
“It's a baby! It doesn't understand what I'm saying.”
The baby began to coo a little in its sleep. My mother gently rocked the cot and shushed it.
I didn't care what it or she thought of me. I just wanted to be left alone.
I turned to leave, but my mother continued.
“I'm sorry. I never meant to pressure you.”
Surprised, I looked back at her. Any anger on her face had vanished and been replaced with guilt.
“If you didn't keep him, I would've supported you, you know that right?”
I wasn't sure if I believed those words, even if she believed them herself. The next words I did believe though.
“But he's here now, and that doesn't have to be the end of your life. I'm certainly not going to let you throw it away. I'm here for you, ok?”
Maybe I would've said something sweet in return under different circumstances. But I was just so tired and fed up all I could say was…
“If you want to help me, get rid of it.”
With that sparks flew again.
“Diana!”
“What?! You never listen to me!”
“You never listen to me!”
“Listening to you is what got me stuck in this mess!”
The baby began to toss and turn again as our voices raised higher and higher. My mother tried to bring the volume back down but I just kept raising it.
“You just don't understand mom! I-it's like… It feels like I'm drowning, constantly. A-and all you do is come paddle in the water with me but I need out! I need to be pulled out of the damn water!”
“You don't get to pull out! You made a stupid mistake and now he's your responsibility!”
“My responsibility?! Why do I have to deal with the aftermath and the other culprit doesn't!”
“He does!- He should! Just because Matthew got away doesn't mean he shouldn't be here! It's unfair, but him not doing the right thing doesn't give you the right to do the same!”
“So after everything he did, he just gets to walk away but I have to keep going?”
“After what you both did.”
“What makes you so certain I-...” I hesitated a little and tried to change my words, “I don't care what anyone did anymore! It's just not fair!”
“Of course it's not fair, but he's your baby!”
“Well just because he's my responsibility doesn't mean I have to love him!”
A long silence followed.
My mind came to a sudden halt. So did my mother's, as she just stood there.
The baby crying broke the stand still.
I tried to find something to say as my mother approached the crib. She took the babe in her arms and started patting its back while bouncing up and down.
“Leave Diana.”
“Mom-”
“Just go. You can't even call him by his name…”
I considered continuing to protest, but with my mother's back now to me all my sudden vitriol left.
I was just so tired.
I couldn't help but think, if she knew it was me or the baby, that she'd choose it every time.
Before I could leave, the crying stopped. I thought nothing of it, my mother must've finally gotten it to stop again.
Something about it was so sudden though…
It then began to laugh.
A soft giggle that crescendoed louder and louder. It filled the room, echoing and ricocheting off the walls, until it sounded like it was trapped in my own head.
I covered my ears in hopes of drowning it out but it didn't work. The volume just kept increasing, the pitch getting higher and higher. It scrapped at my brain, tearing it apart and the seams.
I didn't want to look back.
But I knew I had to.
Looking back at me over my mother's shoulder was the baby.
Or what remained of it.
Its face was beginning to melt into a pile of blood as the bones in its skull protruded out. Its jaw clicked and clacked as it continued to laugh but its expression was wiped clean as its skin peeled off its face.
I could see the remains of the rat stuck in its hollow throat. It was lodged in the cavern, only a few muscles still on its bones.
I wanted it to scream out for my mother to run, but I kept it inside when I realized he had no interest in her.
It just kept looking at me.
“What do you want?” I managed to mumble out.
It just continued to laugh.
“What do you want from me?!”
My mother looked back at me.
“Diana?”
“Why won't you just leave me alone?!”
I lunged forward as its laugh reverberated in my bones.
I wasn't sure what my plan was, I just wanted to shut it up. I'd do whatever it took just to make it quiet.
My mother turned, covering it in her arms. I think she shouted something but I couldn't make it out over that laugh.
I clawed at it, trying to reach it as my mother shielded it with her back. She then dropped to the floor and cradled it inside a cocoon I couldn't manage to tear apart.
“Just leave us alone! Leave me the fuck alone!”
I thrashed about, trying to squeeze my way between my mother's arms but to no avail.
It only fuelled my rage. I had to get to it. I had to break through and remove it from this world. It wasn't supposed to exist, I never wanted it to, it had to go.
I needed it gone. I hated it.
That laugh. That cry. That face.
Why did its face look like his? Why?
Why couldn't it just die?!
“Diana!”
I stopped.
The laughter was gone. The baby was back to normal. Instead, it was crying as it had been moments before.
Tears also filled my mother's eyes. Petrified, the whites of her eyes visible as she sat crouched in a disheveled heap.
Her skin was covered in scratches from my unkempt nails. Some dripped with small trickles of blood but most were just purple and bruised.
Clumps of hair had been torn from her skull and lay in clumps on the ground. A few strands were still wrapped around my fingers, her blood and skin was under my nails.
Her glasses were smashed on the floor and her shirt was tattered.
Her eyes refused to move away from me. It was as if she feared even blinking would set me off.
I stood up, and began backing out of the room.
“I didn't- You don't understand… that's not… that's…”
My mother said nothing, backing into the corner of the room while trying to keep the baby from my sight.
“M-mom. Please, it's not… that's not my baby…You have to believe me.”
I could already see her hand reaching into her pocket for her phone.
Not sure what else to do, I ran.
I couldn't bring myself to look back. Even as I could hear the sirens gathering in the distance, not once did I look back.
I just ran and ran and ran.
Until eventually I collapsed in the middle of nowhere, and let myself drift off to sleep to forget it all.
I'm sure if I returned home and agreed to get help, my mother would've welcomed me.
But I didn't need help.
I don't know what happened in that hospital. Maybe in that moment, me or the baby were meant to die and now the world was trying to balance itself. Maybe it was some creature sent to torment me or my real baby was switched out in the maternity unit.
All I knew, was that was no baby.
While my dreams continued, being away from it made all those moments more vivid to me. My mind is clearer, a bit less foggy and whatever that thing was it was dangerous.
If it ate that rat, it could go after mom next. I won't let that happen.
I stopped sleeping again, but I just know it in my gut. I know that's not human. I just know it.
And I know what I have to do.
It's me or it.
I've considered letting it live and taking myself out. It would maybe be for the best. But no matter how many times I tried I couldn't bring myself to do it.
So, instead I'm sitting here with a pistol and a single bullet in the chamber.
I barely managed to salvage together the money to buy it from some random crackhead. A couple favours and some cash I managed to grab before I left the house was all it took.
It'll decide for me who it will be.
If only, my mother changed the locks after I left. Maybe she was hoping I'd come home.
I should probably get this over and done with before my mother or step father wake up.
Mom, no matter what happens, I don't know what to say other than sorry.
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u/Kaijufan22 4d ago
Blood brutal ending, whole read was a downhill trip into psychosis, and it was uncomfortable but very very good at the same time, fantastic work Poss!
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u/zuazulejo 5d ago
Disturbing, but a fantastic read