I always try to do what my parents ask of me. I keep my elbows off the table and don’t speak with food in my mouth. I study hard at school and avoid conflicts when they arise. They would rarely ever raise their voices at me. Just that one time I broke Aunt Esther’s expensive vase. And that other time I ran out into the road to get my ball.

I was scolded until I cried, my face red and cheeks wet with tears. I promised to be careful, and they eventually told me they loved me. They said they were just worried about my safety, and they apologized for raising their voices. They kissed my forehead and told me it was fine.

I promised to look both ways and to never cross without their permission. I not only promised, but I followed through; making sure the road was clear when I crossed the street to play in the park. I did everything that was asked, but one day, a car appeared out of nowhere. It was going too fast to stop, despite the screeching tires as the driver slammed down the brakes.

My parents wept as they looked down at me. Dad turned his head to puke. I tried to tell them I was OK, but they kept crying and mom kept screaming “My baby, they killed my baby!” I couldn’t move when a strange man in an apron pumped something thick into my blood on that metal table. I couldn’t move when I was placed into a cushioned box. I couldn’t move when everyone gathered to talk about me at church, and then they lowered me into the ground.

After the lid was closed and the dirt thumped the box’s lid, I could still hear my parents from up above. They said it was unfair. They couldn’t let go of me. Mom cried for me to come back, she begged me to, and I started to gather my strength. It took weeks, but I eventually clawed through that box’s wooden lid. I crawled up through the damp, wormy soil. I crawled all the way back home; my twisted legs unable to carry me.

I came back, just like they wanted. I crawled up the stairs and into their room to show them. I raised my heavy head and dangling jaw, and I smiled. I expected them to be so proud of me, but they don’t look happy at all. They look more terrified than they ever have before. Worst of all, even though I did just what they asked, my parents won’t stop screaming at me.

#creepy #short #horror #narration

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