“Time is the greatest healer”, is what everyone who hasn’t had any permanent damage says. I’m a perfect example of someone that even time has little interest in saving, in part thanks to my psychological scarring, and the back and forth aching I do to muster up enough comfort to fall asleep. The ceiling becomes a thousand times more interesting, while I’m nearly comatose with anxiety, the cold wave travelling down my body, sweat exuding from every pore. My family would never know the extent that it goes, because after all, they’re the cause. My father was a tall, slim built older man, and he always sported longer hair. He always knew right from wrong, in fact, he was the voice of reason in the family, he would speak truth when everyone else was afraid. My mother was a short, insecure, and rather masculine built woman. She represented the craziness of us all, the clock ticking, the timer that would go off when we finally decided to kill each other. My older sister was tall for a girl, and had a strange genetic mutation that resulted in a white streak in her hair. She was an undiagnosed sociopath, at least that’s how I thought of her, she lacked any sort of basic empathy a human should have. She would always deceive all of us whenever we would confront her about something she did that wasn’t socially acceptable. Something I realized with her was that she hated people, but loved animals, and she would stay closer to wildlife than society. My younger brother however, was an angel in human form, sweet as all hell, way more empathetic than he ever needed to be, he was too good for the darkness of our family.

He would always be tortured psychologically by our sister, since he was so vulnerable, it always made me very angry, but I wasn’t the type of person who would attack somebody, for any reason. My parents were absent quite frequently during these moments of “war”. Where they were was a mystery to all of us, they were most likely trying to please one another to save their strained marriage. My parents likely had the most painful marriage in our small rural town, they would try and do these fantastical shows of their affection to each other by buying things way out of their pay grade. It would always result in a toxic pattern, where my mother, despite usually being interested in the purchase of whatever it was, started a fight about the cost of that thing. It felt similar to trying to help a rabid dog, you could try and try, but it’ll always bite back and then no one is happy in the end. To compare my mother to a rabid dog, would be harsh towards the rabid dog, as at least the dog has a small amount of care left in it’s feral brain, whereas my mother’s brain had been fully consumed. Time couldn’t help what couldn’t be helped, which was what I figured when it came to my family and I. A new convenience store was being placed directly where a large tract of the village was, it had been torn out because it didn’t fit with the folks who were moving in from the big city’s aesthetic. They unpromptedly marched to the mayor’s building and complained about it, in the form of violent protest. 

The mayor seized the neanderthals at first, but they spread like wildfire and just like that, the mayor’s building had been raided, and the mayor was bludgeoned with a 9 inch metal bat. The mayor died later in the hospital from his injuries, as he had gotten severe brain trauma from the blows. The specific man who hit him with the bat received our small town’s version of the death penalty, which was being completely covered in boiling hot wax and slowly suffocating and burning. It was performed live in the town’s park. The only member of my family that showed up was my sister, she told us after that she laughed as she heard the man’s muffled screams. My brother wept at the idea of somebody suffering a fate as barbaric as that, he disliked anybody being injured, let alone dying slowly and painfully, regardless if he deserved it or not. I comforted him, and glared at my sister in disapproval, she disregarded my gaze and left the room. My brother wiped his face of tears, and gave me a wet kiss on the cheek, I laughed and gave him a grossed out look. He picked up a heavy book from the shelf and planted himself in the beanbag chair looking out the window, he then signalled me to leave. I understood this was his quiet time away from the pandemonium that ensued on the daily. I respected my older brother heavily, and wanted the best for him, even though he might never have gotten it. I stepped heavily into my bedroom, fell on my bed, and began feeling chills throughout my body. I heard shallow laughing and the clanging of keys, which meant my father was arriving. I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, and every step felt painful, his footsteps started matching the chills going through me. 

He finally got to the last step, and started walking over to the hallway where our bedrooms were. I heard his footsteps getting closer, and closer to my bedroom door. He opened my door, and looked at me directly with bedroom eyes, I forced myself up and fell weakly into his arms. He guided me to our downstairs sofa, and laid me down upon the blend of polyester and cotton that wrapped it, he began gliding his heavy masculine hands across my body. As he continued downwards further, the anxiety left my body, and I was beginning to feel ecstasy. He began to slowly unzip my jeans, I felt light and airy inside, he then pulled them down revealing my manhood. It was fully erect, but I was confused, this wasn’t supposed to be happening, but as soon as I realized, I turned and screamed. The face of my father had transformed into the face of my late grandfather, and he was fondling my junk furiously at this point, he kept repeating something that particularly struck something within me, “Do you like it Xavier?” I suddenly burst into tears, but my tears turned into droplets of blood. The droplets of blood hit the floor in a pattern, and I suddenly fell through a fleshy and spongy substance, it felt like cake. I kept falling through this substance, until I saw a giant pair of bloodshot eyes, and they said to me “You need to tell the truth, once and for all,” I woke up suddenly, in my bed, in a cold sweat. I realized I had been napping the whole time, I checked my alarm clock, it said two am, I nearly threw up at the realization. Suddenly, I felt an awful, sharp pain in the back of my head, it stung me in a spiral sensation.

I got up from my bed, and walked through the hall, the descending paintings unfolding years of trauma before my very eyes. I felt a long stream of tepid sweat dribble down my neck, and a stream of tears from my overactive ducts. I stumbled further down the hallway, and quietly knocked on my sister’s door, she didn’t answer, I tried knocking again but a little bit louder. I heard her getting up from her bed and shuffling over to the door, she opened it, but once she saw that it was me, she shut it quickly. Before the door fully closed, I pressed my hands against the door to stop it, and looked at the nametag on her door: “Alicia”. I pushed harder on her door, and started eyeing her furiously, “Alicia? Do you remember Grandpa?” I asked in a breathy voice. “Why the heck are you asking me about him now?” She flicked my nose upwards, and I lost my grip on her door. I began repeatedly hammering on her door, in hopes to annoy her and get her attention back. She slammed back on the door hard, “I’m not helping you with anything you mentalcase!” she yelled through the door. I fell to my knees, and slumped against her door, listening to her quick breaths. I began to cry, at first, light whimpers, then once I knew she was listening, louder sobs. “Do you really think that’s going to work on me? Just leave me alone!” She punched her fist against her door, and slowly opened it again, with a deep sigh, “What the actual hell do you want?” I looked at her with a vacant stare. “I need you to help me confess,” I asked desperately, “Confess what?” She responded, genuinely curious. 

“About Grandpa,” I said, thinking she’d understand, “What about him?” She deadpanned. “About how… he…” I couldn’t finish my sentence, I just broke down again, “Wow, you really are fucked in the head, huh Xavier?” she slammed her door shut, waking up our brother. He poked his head through his door, “What’s the matter with you guys? Why are you being so noisy?” I looked at him with a disappointed look, “We were just having… a conflict,” “ While could you keep it to a roar?” He returned to his room. I gave up, and just decided to pace around our kitchen aimlessly, I heard my father snoring loudly downstairs and my stomach got heavy. My mother and father never slept together, it was usually that my mother would sleep on their queen bed, and my father would sleep on the pullout bed in our sofa. I always felt like it should’ve been the other way around, since my father always suffered more than he had to, and my mother was very undeserving of a comfortable bed. Whenever I hear from everyone that I should respect my mother because she carried me inside her for nine months, I think that it was not my choice to be conceived and developed, and if she isn’t a decent person to me, then I won’t be a decent person to her. I continued pacing the kitchen, and without realizing, a thread from my shirt had caught a cutlery drawer, the drawer got pulled straight off its hinges and cutlery started spilling left and right.

The sound could probably have been heard from the neighbouring house, it was an assimilation of clings and clangs, and my nerves would explode after every single fork and spoon hit the floor. I figured that after that atrocity of sounds, that I would be dead, so I just sped to our door, unlocked it, and ran out. I didn’t bring anything with me, because I thought that it would be too risky, so I just started running down the road, as my heart beat faster and faster. I noticed a car approaching from a distance, and I started frantically signalling for them to pull over, they got closer to me, and noticed my signalling. The driver slowed the car down, and rolled his window to a crack, “What’s going on there buddy?” The driver asked. “I’d been kidnapped by the crazy people who live in that house over there! I need you to take me far away from here,” He looked at me with suspicion in his eyes, “That’s strange, because as a matter of fact, I actually know the family over there, they’re the Threeman’s, they’re nice folk!” He chuckled through gritted teeth. “And aren’t you their son, Xavier?” He asked me, “I’m not their son, I was kidnapped by them!” I yelled, trying to make him believe me. “Cut the crap with a butter knife kid! I met you when you were just a little guy, I recognized your face, and from what I could remember back then, you weren’t eager to escape your family,” I started panicking, realizing that he wasn’t going with the story. “Who are you then? I don’t recognize you,” I asked him, “I’m Spencer Stevenson, and I used to coach your little leagues soccer team, that’s how I remember you!” He said with glee, as he adjusted his bushy moustache. “Wait… Mr. Stevenson? You’re still here? I thought you’d moved out of town a long time ago,” I identified his face, and the dots had begun connecting. My parents had made me take little leagues soccer, some ten or eleven years ago.

It all started making sense, he had met everyone in my family, and had made friendly acquaintances with my father. I looked at him again, and smiled, “Yeah, I remember when you were my coach, and I would always fight the other kids,” He looked at me and laughed, “I remember that yes, and no, I had never left, it was made out to seem like I was leaving by my employers, but no, I never did,” “Okay, and there’s no point in lying to you anymore, because you met my family, and you knew them quite well, but could I still have you take me somewhere?” I stared at him with doughy eyes. “Why do you want to escape your family? I thought they were nice people?” He asked with a soft voice, “It’s just that, I need some time to myself to think about things,” I tapped his window twice, and looked at him, this time with a serious expression. He sighed, and unlocked the door to the passenger seat, “Okay bozo, but don’t tell anybody I was part of this,” I smiled at him and crossed my fingers, “Of course not Spencer, I would never,” he playfully punched me in the shoulder. “Please though, call me Mr. Stevenson, because you’re on my time again,” I sideyed him, and nodded in approval, “Alright Mr Stevenson sir!” I cringed at myself, but remained smiling.

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He turned the car around, and we started leaving our driveway. “So where do you plan on going anyways kid?” He asked me curiously, I didn’t have an idea of where I was to go, so I just said “Probably that run down motel just fifteen minutes from here,” He looked at me, with a concerned look on his face, “That place!? The Empty Bucket In? That place is derelict,” I realized that the Empty Bucket Inn was in very poor condition, and likely dangerous, but it was the only place I could think of on short notice. “It’s in shit condition sure, but I don’t think I’ll be in immediate danger Stevenson,” He looked at me in disbelief, “I went there once, because my house was being fumigated for pests, and I was nearly assaulted my one night there,” I looked at him with mild annoyance, “You’re probably just saying that, it can’t be that dangerous,” He looked with disappointment at the road, “Famous last words kid, I can really attest to the fact that it’s not safe, I just don’t want to be responsible if you get hurt, and then if your parents get involved,” “That’s an understandable concern, sure, but you won’t be held accountable since they’ll never know it was you who brought me there,” I could tell what I said, reassured him slightly. A little while passed, and I could see the flickering sign of the Empty Bucket. I noticed that the road forward and back was pitch black, and barely lit up by lamp posts, that made me feel quite a bit more uneasy as we got closer.

We parked in one of the many vacant spots in the parking lot, he patted me on the back, and sent me on my way. I patted around my pants, looking for any money I could use to pay for a room. I eventually found five dollars in my back pocket from some unknown time. I had to hope that they would be so low brow, that five dollars could pay for a room. I walked into the bright motel lobby, and the tired eyed seventeen year old glared at me, “I assume you want a room buddy?” he said sarcastically, dangling a pair of keys from his finger. “Uh, yeah, I’d like to know what five bucks could do for me?” He rolled his eyes, and dropped the pair of keys on the desk, “While, normally nothing, but since I couldn’t give any less of a shit, and my boss is a dick, I’ll just give you these room keys, but you can still give me that five,” he handed me the pair of keys he was playing with, and I reluctantly handed him the five dollars. I immediately felt that the keys were sticky, I smiled at teenager and turned to leave but he put his hand on my shoulder, “Listen man, there’s something I have to say, you look like a kid with a bright future still ahead of him, and there are a lot of lunatics around here, so just be careful is all,” I looked back at him, “Thanks for the heads up,” I left the lobby to go to my room. I felt grossed out, not knowing what the sticky substance was on the keys I was holding, but I decided to just disregard it and unlock the door. I was hit quite quickly with the potent smell of mildew emerging from the open door, I took a few steps back, stifled a gag, and walked inside.

To say my feelings of disgust were strong when I walked into that room, would be an understatement, I was watching every step I took, since I could potentially be stepping on something vulgar and foul. I cautiously patted the bed before I sat down on it, but it still made a squelching sound as I sat down, I wretched but then contained myself. The room was decorated very strangely, and quite disturbingly, there were framed photos of the apparent bodies of the victims murdered around the area, and there was a large, unsettling African tribal mask hung above the left bedside cabinet. I felt immediate regret upon being in the room. I knew the drastic decision I had made was the wrong one, but I had gone thus far, and I couldn’t turn back. I went to the small section of tiles that bore a slight resemblance to a bathroom, and muscle memory kicked in, and I started looking for my toothbrush. I stopped, and thought to myself, that when I left my house, I left with nothing, so that meant I had to go to one of those twenty four hour convenience stores close by. It was very late at this point, and I thought it wouldn’t be worth it by risking going to the convenience store in this untrustworthy part of town. I figured I could just not brush this night, plus I had heard several rumours going around that there were rapists, murderers, and feral dogs roaming around. I thought in my head that me, a fairly average looking, taller than usual guy, wouldn’t be too susceptible to the supposed danger lurking in the darkness. 

I sat there on my bed, contemplating whether or not I was really as confident as I had made myself in my head. I probably sat there for a good fifteen minutes, just going back and forth in my mind, it was a psychological battle of self hatred and genuine self respect going off at the same time. Finally, my mind made itself up, and my self hatred was triumphant. I slapped myself awake, got up from the bed, rummaged through the nightstand for anything sharp just incase I did bump into someone I found troubling, I ended up finding a broken piece of a plate, I wasn’t sure how it would’ve ever ended up in this nightstand, and I didn’t want to find out. I opened the door of the motel room, and stepped into the endless dark void, only lit up by the distant glow of the flickering signs from the surrounding buildings. I passed by the motel lobby and peeked through the window, the teenage guy running the reception was fast asleep. Looking at him laying back in his chair with his mouth open in a deep sleep made me feel quite tired yet peaceful. I continued in the direction of the faint flickering neon sign that was “Bargain Mart”, the most electric convenience store you could ever shop at, at least that’s how all the advertisements described it. As I approached the store, and as the lights got brighter and brighter, I felt a slight comfort, knowing that if there were anyone who stabbed me, or raped me, that somebody would probably hear my screams for help. 

I walked into the store, and immediately the cashier working there jolted up from what was most likely a deep sleep, and gave me a death stare. “Nobody ever comes here this late, what’re you doing kid?” The cashier asked me, in a fairly annoyed tone, “Oh, I’m just looking for a toothbrush, do you have any?” he raised his arm, and pointed limply at the fourth aisle. “Thanks man,” I said, trying to alleviate a bit of his annoyance, I walked over to the aisle he pointed to, and I grabbed one of the cheap toothbrush/toothpaste combos. I walked over to the cashier and placed the brush on the counter, he pointed at the price tag on the package, and then made a gesture to give him the money. I looked through all my pockets, and realized I had spent the last of my liquid money on the motel room. I panicked, and looked uncomfortably at the cashier, “Uh, sir,” I glanced at his nametag, it read: Robert Venwell, “Robert, there’s a bit of a problem, I haven’t got any money left to pay for this,” he looked at me with a great level of disdain. “You’ve really got to bust my balls like this now kid?” he said with clear annoyance in his voice, I looked down at the ground in silence. He sighed, and slid the toothbrush towards me, “You know kid, I really want to get back to sleeping, so you can just have this,” he patted me on the back and pushed me towards the door. I grabbed the toothbrush combo and smiled at the cashier as I left. He grimaced back at me, I looked around the empty parking lot for any suspicious people who might jump out at me, thankfully there were none that I could clearly see, so I headed back to the motel room. On the way, I started hearing a strange high pitched sound, and I started getting slightly worried, my pace increased, and my heart beat faster. The high pitched sound seemed to get louder as I approached the motel, I slowed my steps cautiously as I approached my motel room. As I got to my motel room door, I realized that the high pitched sounds I was hearing were actually screams, I got a violent chill throughout my body at the realization. 

I continued past my motel room to where the sound seemed to be coming from, and my body started to feel light and strange. I stopped at where the sound was at its loudest, which was room hundred and forty six, and I put my ear up to the door. It sounded like what seemed to be screams for help from a little girl, and the violent grunts of a man, with a sudden boost of confidence, and the desire to help whoever was in there, I knocked on the motel door. The sound started getting louder as I knocked, and after a little while, it was deafening, and it seemed like anyone in the whole surrounding area would be able to hear it. After knocking several times, the knocking started turning into pounding, and the sound was only getting louder and louder, I started screaming at the top of my lungs as I continued to pound the door. Finally, after pounding the door and screaming for what seemed to be an eternity, the door snapped off its hinges and fell and hit the ground, and the sound immediately stopped. I was met by a completely empty room and my heart sank, my mind started racing with thoughts, “was I hallucinating this entire thing?” “Am I completely losing my mind?” I suddenly lost all strength in my legs, and collapsed on the fallen door.

The teenager from the reception got out of the lobby and started walking over to where the commotion was. “Hey! What the heck happened here?” he yelled in my direction, I looked up at him with an empty stare “I thought I heard a little girl’s screams coming from this room, but then… then they just disappeared,” he looked at me like I was completely crazy, “look you weirdo, don’t start breaking down random doors, because you “heard something”, I could lose my job for that,” I fell back down on the door, not hearing what he said. He grumbled in annoyance and left, I started to break down, I buried my head in my arms and just let out all my feelings, the sounds of the little girl crying for help still ringing in my ears. I wiped my face of tears and snot and got up from the door, I walked back to my motel room and brushed my teeth while looking at myself in the mirror, after I was done brushing and had spat out the toothpaste, I looked up one more time at myself, but this time I was a child. My eyes were filled with innocence and purity, my skin was covered in dirt, and my hair was messy, it made me think of the times I would put my full being into soccer when I was younger. The reflection began weeping lightly, I could now see pain behind this child’s eyes, and the dirt on my face had become bloody patches.

The child in the reflection started screaming, as well as crying, and he began to perform erratic movements in the mirror. I had become hypnotized by the dancing tantrum my younger self was having, my eyes were locked in place. The child began furiously moving in the mirror, even more than before, he started transforming into an older child, and then a tween, and then the person I was now. The mirror cracked once it returned to my reflection, tearing me straight from my hypnosis back into reality, I screamed, and then ran to the bed. I jumped on it, causing the squelch I heard before, to turn into more of a splash. I pulled the covers over myself, turned my head to the side and closed my eyes to try and sleep, but images and sounds of children screaming in fear and suffering dominated every corner of my mind. I started shuffling back and forth on my bed to try and make them disappear, but they just kept populating further. I started to repeatedly hit my head on the pillow, and think differently, but that wasn’t even working. Finally, I just gave up, my head was pounding from hitting it on the pillow, I just lay there staring blankly at the wall, the sounds and images now completely in control. I was able to fall asleep thankfully, after what seemed like five hours of persistent disturbing thoughts, but then I was woken up to the sound of several cars swerving by on the accompanying road. I checked the digital clock resting on the nightstand, it was barely seven in the morning, I got up from my bed, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and headed back into the outside world.