“Yes, Mommy,” I replied, quickly moving away from the bathroom. She made sure to slam the mangled wood door closed in my face before I had a chance to see what was actually happening.
“Jed, my love, you are a f*****g sorry excuse for a man. I mean really, cutting the arteries in your legs? Is my little choir boy too much of a p***y to hang himself?” She paused, her mind suddenly overcome with a realization. “You were trying to castrate yourself, to deny me another child and cut off my power.” She laughed as she stomped her foot down on his groin with a sickening crunch. “It doesn’t work like that. You don’t get to choose when you die or even how.”
I remember this moment. The child version of myself went and worked on homework, pretending to not hear the sounds emanating from the bathroom
