It’s time for some bloody fiction.
So this weekend I was thinking about what should I write about next. That was when I realized I had yet to publish any of my works of fiction here on Medium. So I decided to go with that.
I pondered if I should recycle some of my old stuff or just create something new — I decided to go with the latter.
Inspired by some accidental eavesdropping this weekend, here goes nothing!
They arrived at the beach late in the morning. This middle aged couple was at clear dissonance with the sunny scenery: as soon as they sat on their chairs, the arguing started. At first, only the woman spoke. Her tone was clearly off, she sounded like she was about to burst into tears.
‘I don’t know how you are able to not react to all of this. How you can just let it slide?’ She sighed. Took a short pause. Then continued.
‘This is our son we are talking about. Not some stranger. OUR son.’ She looked straight at him whilst saying the last sentence. He seemed to ignore her and continue to read his newspaper.
‘ What is the plan here? What are we going to do about this?’ She insisted.
He threw the newspaper in his lap and yelled at her.
‘What to you want me to do? What to you EXPECT me to do?’
‘I want you to talk to me. I want you to look me in the eyes and calmly discuss this with me. I want you to help me find a solution to OUR problem.’ She pleaded.
‘There is nothing to talk about. There is no solution. YOUR son is beyond saving. There is nothing either you or me can do.’
He was blunt, heartless. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the woman.
‘I don’t know why I still bother with you. I don’t know why I try. I should have come here alone. You always ruin everything.’ She blurted. He didn’t react whatsoever.
About an hour later he stood up, calmly packed his newspaper, grabbed his towel and chair. Before he left, he said to her that ‘everything was going to be alright’ and there was even affection in his voice.
He came back to pick her up at the end of the afternoon. He got out of the car to help her out with her stuff and she noticed dry blood on his hands.
‘Oh my God, what happened? Did you get hurt?’
‘I took care of it.’ He said. And then he smiled. Actually, he grinned. The woman’s heart fell at her feet.
‘What did you do? What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?’ She was screaming and shaking him, who just stood there and grinned. That’s when she noticed a shape on the back seat of the car, under a blanket. She went to take a peak and immediately fell to the floor, sobbing and screaming uncontrollably.
All this commotion caught the attention of the local police officers, who quickly established a security cord around the couple, their car and their dead son, who laid stabbed in the back seat.
The locals were gossiping. The son was a drug addict who couldn’t help but steal from their parents to fuel his addiction. He was slowly killing himself and his mother, out of worry. His father couldn’t stand it and today’s fight with the wife had been the last straw.
He drove home, found his son going through cold turkey and convinced him to get on the tub, where he drowned and stabbed him. He stabbed him in the face, repeatedly, so as to erase any sense of connection to this human that was once his son. Once the deed was done, he stood there, looking at the bloody tub. He had fought hard for his life: when he started to drown him, his son reached out his hands and scratched him in the face and tried gasping for air several times. Why couldn’t he have shown the same fighting spirit against the drugs?