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    AceKebabs
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Woman in Red - 1. Chapter 1

This story is not a romantic one nor does it involve gay relationships. Warning: suicide included but not too gory.

“I only wanted to give him a new life. That’s all I ever wanted…”

******************************************************

12:05 a.m.

Can’t believe I missed the last train home. I should’ve never stayed out so late, but I can’t say no to their invitation; I haven’t seen the gang for so long. Not since…Since... I can’t even remember.

To be honest, I forgot about a lot things lately. It’s like my mind is just set on a particular time and I’m only able to “live” in that certain period. I can’t remember how I got here, nor can I remember what happened a few hours ago. All I know, was that I had been drinking with some friends and now I have to walk all the way to the bus station to get a cab. Maybe I’m just exhausted and a little drunk.

I made my way lazily across the road towards a bus stop, but then stopped. The atmosphere had changed. It was darker and colder, and the bus station disappeared. I just stood there, confused. I was standing in the middle of an empty road, not knowing what I was doing. I had to be going somewhere. But where? I lost all memory of ever being here. It’s like it just happened. I just happened to be standing in the middle of nowhere and I couldn’t remember anything. I tried hard to remember, but nothing made sense. I looked ahead to see an old apartment building. That’s right, I must be going home. I’m not even sure if it is my home. But I have a strong feeling I should head there. I trusted my instincts-which failed me eventually, and made my way towards it. I got in one of the eerie elevators and knowingly pressed for the thirteenth floor. I don’t even why. I just felt like I knew, knew where to go.

The elevator let out a menacing groan as it started ascending. I lay my head against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to make sense of everything. I must be drunk. But how drunk was I that could make a frickin' station disappear. I was deep in my thoughts, when suddenly a sudden sharp pain hit me on the back of my head; the pain spreading through my whole body. I sank on my knees and was soon bent over into a fetal position as the pain traveled through every vein in my body. The pain was excruciating; especially on my neck. My neck felt loose and limp, and I had to placed my head on the floor for it was too painful to support it. I fell to the ground and lay there, on the verge of passing out when the elevator door open. From the distance I could make out a figure. It was a silhouette of a person. I could also make up a sound; a rattling sound. It seem to be coming from the figure. It sounded close, yet far. It was loud enough to echo through the halls but was also soft, like a whisper. I forced myself to stand and surprisingly, the pain began to ease.

“Come here…my child.”

A voice echoed.

It came from the far end of the corridor, from where the figure stood. I slowly walk towards it. It sounded so familiar and kind, yet haunting. As I got closer to the figure, I began to see that it was indeed human; a woman. Her features were indistinguishable however; I could only see a hint of what I thought was a red skirt above a pair of pale, bony legs. She was barefooted and somehow it seems normal to me at that moment. Her upper body was covered with lush, dark hair, which obscured her face. She raised what looked to be her arm, and beckoned me to come forward. I hesitated, but went to her anyways. I felt my heart burned, and the pain on my neck returning as I came closer. The pain finally seized me and I fell to my knees, desperately clutching my throat as I felt it being crushed by an invisible force, forcing the air out of me. I had to dragged myself with my free hand to reach her, and when I did, the woman in red got down on her knees and touched me lightly on my cheek; her touch felt icy cold, yet comforting in a way. My vision blurred, and darkness soon engulfed me.

 

September 21st, 2007.

4:15 p.m.

The sun shines brightly as the cool Autumn breeze blows auburn leaves around the playground as I sat and watch mother play. She was happily running around with her best friends. Some bigger kids had come to the playground. They were yelling at mother and her friends, telling them to get lost and claiming the area as theirs. Mother fought back but the biggest girl pushed her down, causing her to sprained her ankle. Despite her hurt foot, she stood up and bravely told her friends to let it be; trying hard not to cry as she limped her way towards me.

“Let’s go home now,” She said, eyes beginning to water. “Forget about those beasts.”

She took me by the hand and led me away from the park. I knew there was nothing I can do to help her. She told me once she had always wanted a big brother to look out for her. That has been the reason of my existence. But as she grew up, she decided she wanted a child instead-so whenever she would feel down, she'd always remember that I am watching and that she has to be strong for me; those were exact words.I felt save with her and I thank her immensely for giving me the closest thing I have to a life.

November 12th, 2011.

8:45 a.m.

Mother just turned thirteen a few weeks ago and is now attending junior high. I feel equally nervous for her as we walked into the main gate. I could see her trembling a bit when she saw Lilian and her gang walking towards her.

“Hey, freak.” Lilian pushed mother, making her dropped her books.

Mother held her head down as she quietly picked her books up. The three girls continued taunting her; I felt angry. I would’ve beaten them up if I could, but I could only stand aside and watch mother being bullied. I was supposed to take care of her. But I could only hope she would find comfort in my presence once the damaged is done. She would talk to me every night; telling me all her secrets. Sometimes she wouldn’t have to mention it. I would already know. Because mother and I shared everything together. Her thoughts are mine, her worries are mine; everything she’s been through, I’ve been through. We even share the same beating heart. Although it’s more hers than mine.

“I don’t need any other man in my life.” She said to me sleepily on one cold night, where we cuddled closely in her warm bed. “I have my boy here.”

October 21st, 2019.

9:13 p.m

Mother seemed down. The baby’s gone. Why would she need it in the first place anyway? She did say I was her only boy. Why would she want a real one now? I can be as real as she wants me to. Maybe she’s tired of me. She even told me to leave. Why is she angry with me? It’s not my fault she dropped it on the way home. She told me to go and meet some old friends down at the bar. Then, everything went blank. I couldn’t remember anything but a sharp pain on my neck.

October 31st, 2019

10:47 a.m.

I found myself lying on mother’s bed as she sat across me cradling something close to her chest. She had whatever it is wrapped in a floral-patterned, crimson blanket. I remembered we used to snuggle together under that very blanket. I could see that she was wearing her favourite red dress that we chose together.

“You alright, mother?” I asked.

She hushed me. A bony finger rests on her blue lips.

“You’re asleep.” She whispered, slowly looking up. Her eyes were blood-shot and her skin inhumanly pale. A red smudge was visibly on her lips.

“I’ll put you in bed and we’ll cuddle close. Just give me a few minutes, kay.”

She laid the “thing” next to me on the bed and took my hand. I held on to hers tightly, a sudden pang of realization hit me. This was the end. She wanted to have the baby because she wanted it to be me. She wanted me to live; really live. I suddenly remember her telling me that if she dies, people would at least remember her. But what about me? Who would remember me? She wanted me to be real. But now the baby’s dead. And so was she. As for me, I’m still just a fragment of her imagination. She dies, so will I. But it doesn’t matter for what am I without her? I have never existed and never will. I’ll be happy to go with her. We could both perish.

“Come…my child. Let us go, together, always.” She said, as if chanting a spell. I knew exactly what to say in respond.

“Forever truly, I am yours.” I whispered. She let go my hand and stood on the chair. A rope could be seen hanging from the ceiling fan. She looped it around her neck.

“I only wanted to give you a new life. That’s all I ever wanted….”

And with that, she kicked the chair and hung her self. An audible crunch of her neck snapping could be heard. As her neck broke, so did mine. I sank to the floor, my head hanging limp. I look at Mother, a warm smile plastered on her face. I smiled back. This was the end, and I'm happy to go with her.

Just as my eyes began to close, a piercing shriek echoed through the room, and the 'thing' on the bed began to thrash it's arms wildly. I tried to see. but was too tired. The room was engulfed in darkness, and the unmistakable sound of a baby's cries. And soon, all was lost.

All I can say is that this story hits close to home. Oh! and fell free to ask any questions on the review section if you dont get it smile.png
Copyright © 1970 AceKebabs; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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