Momma. Mother.

DISCLAIMER: the following text includes themes of abuse, and domestic violence.

“Momma! Momma!” A voice hoarse with tears whispered in the silent room. The words bounced against the concrete floor of the room, escaping under the door. He envied them.
“Please! Take me home! Please!” The despair embedded in his voice pushed against the tears flooding his eyes, knocking them off their teetering ledge. But the ears he was calling out to had vanished a long time ago.
Once more, his voice screamed out in whispering pleas.
“Momma! Please! Save me!”
Click.
At the sound, the boy’s whispers hushed.
Clack.
“Now, now, darling. No need to fret, Momma’s right here.” A voice dripping with honey rang out.
Click.
The little warmth that hugged his body vanished with his voice. Sharp nails trailed up the nerves of his spine, as his heart pounded erratically beneath his quivering skin.
“Darling I’m right here. What are you crying about?” The faceless voice anguished the room.
Clack.
A hand reached out from the shadows, nails a hauntingly red.
Her hand slashed through the air, finding its target in his right cheek.
Her hand closed in on him, moulding around the curve of his cheekbones. Her thumb brushed the ragged bumps of his cheeks tenderly.
Her hand scarred slashes of red, identical to her nails, across the plains of his cheeks.
“Momma’s right here darling. Don’t be scared. Momma won’t ever leave you alone.”
She struck again, only pausing to stare holes into her artwork, a feigned frown twisting her lips.
The boy’s eyes shook at the contact, flickering to gaze anywhere but in front of him. The windows of his eyes regained their clarity at the personal intrusion, shutters flickering to dry out the tears.
“If you had behaved, I wouldn’t have to do this. Do you know how much it hurts me to punish you?”
“Darling, what did I say about being too loud?” Her blinding teeth peeked out beneath her crimson lips.
“Don’t be too loud, or I might wake my sisters up,” he mumbled in response, lips moving in routine.
“That’s right. And you don’t want to wake your sisters up do you?” She continued, her sugary drawl pounded against his head.
The problem was, he didn’t even know if he could wake them up. He turned his head to focus his wavering gaze on the two unnervingly still bodies lying next to him.
“No, no I don’t,” he answered her, head bowed.
“Good, you know how much I hate punishing you. I don’t have to teach you another lesson do I?” The promise behind her words chilled his blood, crawling over his skin and ripping goosebumps up from beneath his skin as they passed.
“No, no you don’t, mother.”

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