Destroy the Link
by Jennifer Haynes

Slowly I climbed up the stairs to my apartment, wishing I could collapse under the weight of my backpack. It had been an exhausting day at school, and I was looking forward to relaxing at home. I pulled out my keys, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

The room was quiet. The television wasn't on, nor was the computer or the radio. But I heard my mom out in the kitchen. She didn't usually start cooking dinner this early. Dad wouldn't be home for another two hours.

"Hi, Mom," I called, hanging up my keys and kicking off my shoes. "I'm home."

"Hello, dear," she answered.

I rushed into my room and dropped my backpack on the floor. I checked to see that my plants were watered, and then headed out to the living room to watch TV. On my way, I looked in at my mom in the kitchen. She was stirring something on the stove, her head bent over the pot, looking in.

"What did you do today, Mom?" I asked, as I flopped down onto the couch and turned on the TV. To get a little amusement I turned it to Jerry Springer.

"Not much, dear. Just cooking."

Usually my mom had a little more to say, but I figured she must be tired too.

"So," Jerry said on TV, "it's true that you slept with your sister, and it developed into a serious relationship?"

"Yes, Jerry," the two I assumed to be siblings answered.

"But, John, isn't there something you'd like to tell Candace?"

"Yes, there is," John replied, turning to his sister. He picked up her hand and held it, looking her straight in the eye. I thought I knew what was coming. "Candace, I, I don't know how to tell you this, but...well, I cheated on you."

I was right.

"What? With who? It was my friend Helen wasn't it?" Candace yanked her hand out of John's grip.

"No, not her." He paused. "I started sleeping with Mom."

I hadn't been expecting that. I laughed out loud. My mom would usually get mad about that, but she remained silent. She liked to think I hadn't been exposed to that sort of thing.

"With Mom? How could you...I mean...Oh my God."

"I'm sorry..."

"Shut up, John."

“We have someone we'd like to introduce to everyone. Candace, say hello to your mother."

A woman, probably in her thirties, walked out on stage. There wasn't a fight, and when John stood up to kiss his mom, I decided to try to have another conversation with my mom.

"So, Mom," I said, walking to the entryway of the kitchen, "what are you cooking?"

"Nothing, dear."

"Can I help?"

I'm fine, dear."

This was going to be harder than I thought. "You know, I had to take three major tests at school today. They were really hard, but I think I did okay."

"That's good, dear."

She didn't act like she was listening. I decided to try one more time, but I was going to test her and get myself into some trouble since I had nothing better to do.

"Mom, isn't it sexual harassment if Mr. White grabbed my chest? Or does it have to bother you to be considered sexual harassment? He did that today after school. I liked it, but everyone told me it was sexual harassment. Help me out here, you're my mom."

"Well, wasn't that sweet of him, dear?"

I had had enough. "Are you trying to piss me off, Mom? You're doing a fine job of it. School was hell and you don't care. Geez. And what the hell is up with calling me dear? "

“Nothing, dear."

I headed into the bathroom. I didn't want to say something I was really going to regret. As I brushed my hair and washed my hands, I got to thinking that maybe Mom was a little sick. She had been under a huge amount of stress recently. She and Dad are having money problems, which creates a lot of tension, so Dad goes out and gets drunk which makes Mom mad and she goes to bed crying every night. I guessed maybe I should check on her, and apologize for what I said. The fact that she didn't get mad at me for my language made me worry more.

I walked out to the kitchen again and put my hand on Mom's shoulder. "Mom, I'm sorry. Are you having a hard day?"

"No, dear."

I sighed. It didn't seem like I was going to get anything out of her. I was still debating on whether or not to make her lie down when I started looking at the things in the kitchen, and what my mom was really doing.

On the counter sat various measuring instruments, all of which were empty except for a cup which had water in it. Steam was rising from the pot on the stove, but when I looked inside, all I saw was boiling water, and Mom was stirring it with a wooden spoon.

Then it occurred to me that she hadn't moved at all since I had come home. Her head was still bent over the steaming pot, her hair hanging to cover both sides of her face. I moved her hair aside for a moment to see if she had maybe taken some drugs or something. Although I was drug free, most of my friends were not, and I knew what to look for.

Mom's face was extremely red from the heat of the steam. I had no doubt that she had been standing there for a very long time. But she didn't feel any pain, obviously, and strangely enough, her eyes were closed. Now I was really worrying.

“Mom, why don't you come lie down on the couch," I said, trying to usher her into the living room. She wouldn't budge. Then a thought occurred to me. "What are you going to do when all the water boils out, Mom?" The water level was already extremely low. She wouldn't have much longer before it was all gone.

As if in answer to my question, she picked up the cup of water that was on the counter and poured some of it into the pot.

"Look, I'm gonna call Dad, okay? I'll be right here."

The hand that was not stirring reached out and grabbed my wrist. "Leave me alone, dear. Don't call your father. I'll be finished soon. Why don't you go out and spend some time with your friends, dear? I don't want to see you right now. You're getting on my nerves."

I was taken aback. Mom had never said anything like that to me before. Anger welled up inside me. She was taking out her anger and annoyance at Dad and placing it on me. Suddenly I forgot about being worried and lost control.

"Jesus Christ, Mom, what the fuck is your problem? I'm not your scapegoat. I'm sick of having people being so unappreciative of me and my concerns."

I stomped out of the room and went to my bedroom. I picked up the phone and called my friend Sherry and asked her to come pick me up. I guess the tone of my voice clued her in that it probably wasn't a good time to question me.
As I sat waiting, I decided that, to avoid a little bit of trouble, although I'd be in quite a bit whenever she came out of her mood, I would go and tell her I was leaving.

"Mom, I'm going to a party. With Sherry."

"Okay, just don't drink, dear."

She wasn't paying attention to me at all.

"Don't worry. We're only going to do some heroin and have sex. Maybe everyone'll join in and we'll have an orgy." For just a moment I felt bad about what I had just said. Then that feeling went away. I could feel myself crumbling. I had to get out of the house soon.

"Good, just don't give out blowjobs, dear. You shouldn't do that."

"What?" I said, shocked. My mom never said anything like that to me, ever, nor had she ever been so oblivious to my feelings. "Yeah, no problem, Mom. I'm just gonna get pregnant, that's all. We don't believe in condoms. We blow them up and use them as balloons when we're tripping on acid." I debated on whether or not to add what was on my mind. I'd be in heaps of trouble with Dad. But, then again, wasn't I already? I decided to exercise my freedom of speech and sarcasm, as sick as it may be. "I will only use a condom if I suck a guy's dick, Mom. And you know how promiscuous I am. I have to be careful when I do that. STD's aren't a problem though."

"No, no, dear. No blowjobs. Go have fun. Bye, bye. Leave me alone please, dear."

I turned around in disbelief and anger, and at that moment someone knocked at the door. It was Sherry.

I quickly put on my shoes, then stepped out and slammed the door shut.

"What's wrong?" asked Sherry.

“I don't know. Let's just get in the car. Damn it. I just want to cruise around if that's okay."

"Sure thing."

After riding around for about ten minutes in silence, I decided to speak. "Sherry, I think I want to run away from home."

"Why?"

"Well, you know about all the problems between Dad and Mom, but now my mom is worrying me." I felt anger start to bubble up inside. "I can't decide if she needs help or if she's just being a bitch. With the way everyone seems to be turning on me, I would choose the latter. I wanted to tell her about school and she wasn't listening. For Christ's sake she was stirring a pot of boiling water, and letting the steam turn her face red."

"Calm down," Sherry said. "Try, anyway. I can hardly understand you."

"I can't, I'm so pissed off. Finally I started telling her I was going to go and do some drugs and have sex with someone, and all she said was to not drink and not give out any blowjobs. I told her I was only going to get pregnant because we didn't believe in condoms and even that didn't get anything out of her. And I said 'fuck,' the most forbidden word in my house. She didn't even look at me! I'm so sick and tired of people changing like this...I'm too stressed!" I couldn't hold it in anymore. The stress that had been building up had to be released, and I started crying. And I couldn't stop.

Sherry took me over to her house and we talked for a while. She said that if I ran away, I could go to her house, but I'd have to go home soon after. Then she took me home. It was about midnight.

I knew Dad would be home by this time. He most likely shook Mom out of whatever was wrong, and I knew they'd be sitting in the living room, waiting, ready to sentence me. It wasn't my fault. But that's how things always worked for me.

When I unlocked the door and went in, though, Dad was asleep on the floor, like usual, and all the lights were out. No one was even considerate enough to leave a lamp on for me. I fumbled around in the dark trying not to wake Dad, and I made it to my room. I fell down onto my bed and looked at the ceiling. What the hell was wrong with my family? Were things supposed to be like this?

After a little while I climbed under my blankets, not even bothering to change into pajamas. All the stressful events of the day had drained me of energy, and I started to drift asleep almost instantly.

Just as I was about to enter a dream that was starting in an airport on a stormy day, something rattled my window. "Just the wind," I thought to myself. But then I heard it again. And again. I felt drugged and woozy, the line of reality and the dream world was unrecognizable, and I couldn't move. I told my head to lift up, but it wouldn't. I couldn't turn over. I was worried, but I was slipping off to sleep again anyway.

Then I heard something prying the window. Very quickly, but just one limb at a time, I got myself out of sleeping and was jolted fully awake when the frame of my window cracked. Wasn't this a good ending for my day? I ran into the living room to get my dad. I was scared the robber might have a gun.

"Dad," I said as I ran into the room. But when I looked, for my eyes were adjusted to the dark, I saw his bed was empty. Something just didn't seem right and I couldn't move even though I heard the window opening more and more. Rain started pelting down, soaking the carpet by the balcony door...

That was it, the door was open. And so was the screen. One of my dad's blankets had fallen away just in front of the door. He was breaking into his own apartment. What did that mean? Why would he? He was breaking into my room...

Suddenly it hit me, and I ran to my mom's room. I had forgotten about the events of earlier in the day for I was quite sure I was going to die. "Mom, Mom!" I shouted as I tried to shake her awake. "Dad's trying to kill me...he's breaking into my room!"

"Oh, dear, it's okay. Why don't you go back to bed?"

"Shit, Mom, listen to me for God's sake! Dad's breaking into my room...he's staging a break in so it won't look like he did...oh please..." I started to cry. "Listen to me, Mom..." I kept shaking her, and then she finally opened her eyes. I screamed.

Her eyes weren't eyes. They looked like shiny gold balls...as though someone had just placed them in the eye sockets instead. There were no pupils, just, shiny, smooth gold.

I figured my scream would have set Dad in after me, but as I ran out of my mom's room, he was still struggling with my window. Mom didn't even get out of bed as I left the room, although I knew she would be soon enough, if anything registered into her mind. What was going on? I could only think I was stuck in a nightmare. I just wished that I would wake up.

I ran out the front door and down the steps, and behind the dumpsters in the parking lot. I just had a feeling that running out into the street would be wrong. I decided to hop the fence and get help in the car lot that was next door. It didn't occur to me that it was most likely closed.

I went frantically through the rows of car. It seemed like they would never end. The lights inside the dealership were off, but I thought I saw a man walking around up front.

"Sir!" I screamed. "You have to help me!"

The man stopped walking and stared at me. I felt like I was trapped in a maze, and then soon a car would come racing after me to run me over. I wished he would come to me; he seemed so far away, and I was tired.

Finally, after a seemingly perpetual run, I came to the man. I bent over, putting my hands on my knees and gasping for air. I thought I was going to throw up.

"Sir," I said breathlessly while trying to keep my food down at the same time. "You'll never believe me, but you have to. My parents are trying to kill me. Something is wrong with them, they're breaking into our own house...please, help me." I tried to breath slower and I looked up.

The man was looking at me with a stoic expression, his golden eyes reflecting some of the light from the street lights. Somehow I managed not to scream. Slowly I started to back away, and the man didn't move.

"Can you help me to a phone? Or to the cops, just somewhere, please..." I pretended not to notice his eyes. Maybe if he thought I didn't know, he'd leave me alone. It defied logic, but I had to believe something or I was going to lose my mind for good if I didn't die first.

After I was just far enough away so he couldn't leap at me if I made any quick movements, I turned and ran as fast as my exhausted muscles would let me. I headed towards the street, and then something inside me told me I was going to have to kill my parents. No one in the town was normal, but what was I going to do? They weren't my parents anymore. Maybe they were the leaders and this would be over. Even better, maybe I'd wake up before it came to that.

I ran back towards the apartments, picking up a board on the way. The rain was falling so hard it seemed to leap off the ground, jumping up to get me, but I kept running. I prayed I would wake up, but I had a feeling I was going to have to go through this killing first. Perhaps there was some significance to this dream. I could be killing my last feelings of dependence on my parents or something, but I think my mind could have come up with a calmer way.

I ran upstairs and saw that the apartment door was ajar. I felt no more fear. This had to be done. I needed to grow up, move on. I was eighteen. It was almost time for me to be on my own.

Pushing the door open with my foot, I kept the board held high over my head, ready to bring it down as soon as something moved. I pushed the door to the wall to be sure no one was behind it, and then listened.

My dad was still trying to break into my room. And my mom was just now making it out into the living room. With a slight pang of sadness, I killed my mom, as quickly and painlessly as I could, severing that tie but still feeling my love for her. Then my dad came inside, and I did the same thing.

I sat on my knees and dropped the board to the floor. I closed my eyes and waited to wake up or drift into dreamless sleep as I tried to catch my breath. But it seemed that the dream was not over. And then a thought flashed through my mind.

"Oh no," I whispered to myself. "This is going too far." But I couldn't stop myself. It had to happen. I put my hands in the mixing pools of blood and lowered myself to the ground. "Oh shit," I said as I began to drink. "Oh my God, I've got to see my psychiatrist tomorrow." I was used to nightmares, but nothing as sick as this. I didn't know what this could possibly mean and I was frightened.

After a few minutes, I stopped drinking and just rested my head on the floor, ignoring the fact that my face was in the blood. I was so tired I couldn't move, and I didn't care. I just wanted to wake up. And then a peacefulness began to flow through me, and I realized it was from the blood I had drunk. There was something in it, like a drug of some sort. And then as I drifted off into blackness, I was relieved that it was finally over.