Give 'Em Hell, Kid
The Murderer's Son
“Happy birthday to you! happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Damian, happy birthday to you!” We all sang. He happily blew out all four of his candles, and tried to grab for the knife. We all let him handle knives, considering the fact that he had been extraordinarily good at handling them since the time he was two and a half. I watched as he cut himself a large slice of the Funfetti cake Ray had baked him. It was the least he could do. After all, he did shoot his mother in the head. Twice. I do miss her dearly. Sometimes, I’ll look at a picture of her and cry, just a little bit. Sometimes, I’ll even look at Damian and cry. He looks exactly like her. His hair has her bangs, swooping down over his forehead, all the way to his eyes. It’s down to his shoulders in the back, and layered. He chooses his own clothes, and dresses like he doesn’t care how he looks. Just like her.
“Now, where’s mommy? You said I could meet her when I turned four. I’m four now.” Damian interrupted my train of thought.
“Umm... I-I’ll take you to her. Lets just have cake now, okay? If that’s fine with you...” I said. He nodded and continued shoving food into his mouth.
“Awkward as ever, eh Mikey?” Frank said, patting me on the back.
“Wait, you still haven’t told him?” Gerard asked. His eyes were really wide.
“I figured it would hurt him if I told him his mother was dead. I’m just going to take him to the grave and let him figure it out himself.” I replied, rubbing my hand against the back of my head. I do that when I get nervous. Frank and Gerard nodded.
“The plans for tonight are still on, right?” Frank asked. I nodded. Damian was done with his cake, having some frosting smeared across his tiny face. He was small for his age, just like me when I was a kid. Of course, then I grew quite large.
“Daddy, can we go now? I wanna meet her.” He asked.
“Okay. I have to get one thing on the way there, if that’s fine.” I replied, grabbing my car keys. He nodded and grabbed his favorite teddy bear. It was the one Skylar had gotten him a few days before she died. The little black thing had gotten a bit tattered, and Damian had requested that whenever it got ripped, I had to use red thread to sew it up with. Yes, I know how to sew.
The car ride was not very long, but not very short either, considering the fact that I needed to stop at the florist. I wanted to bring her flowers. I picked out four of the darkest red roses I could find. They were the color of the blood she had so dearly loved to watch poor out of a human body. Damian was still questioning where she was, what she was like, what her name was, if she was pretty. I had never told him anything about his mother, besides the fact that she had been gone since he was six months old. We arrived at the Glendale Cemetery, much to the confusion of Damian.
“Does mommy live near here?” He said, looking out at the varying shades of grey on the headstones.
“You could say that.” I said, unbuckling him from his car seat helping him out of the car. I gave him a tiny rose and said not to drop it as we quietly walked down a long, winding dirt road. We came upon her headstone, the same dull grey as the others in the area.
“This is your mom, D.” I said, placing the roses in front of the slab of cold stone. Damian stared up at me, looking to be totally emotionless.
“Skylar Eve, beloved mother, fiancee, and friend.” It read. He took his tiny flower and placed it next to mine, hugging the stone as he backed away from it.
“Hi, mommy.” He said quietly, sitting down about a foot away. “Why’d you have to be buried, mommy? Why didn’t you stay with me? Anyways, daddy said you’re real pretty and real smart. I bet you were a real good mommy before you died. Oh! And guess what! I turned four today! And we had yummy cake that uncle Ray baked. Did you like him when you were here?” He rambled on about the sprinkles and the presents. I didn’t tell him that it was Ray who killed Skylar. He just knew she was dead. Not how. I still remember that night, and I have no doubt that it will haunt my dreams forever.
“Now, where’s mommy? You said I could meet her when I turned four. I’m four now.” Damian interrupted my train of thought.
“Umm... I-I’ll take you to her. Lets just have cake now, okay? If that’s fine with you...” I said. He nodded and continued shoving food into his mouth.
“Awkward as ever, eh Mikey?” Frank said, patting me on the back.
“Wait, you still haven’t told him?” Gerard asked. His eyes were really wide.
“I figured it would hurt him if I told him his mother was dead. I’m just going to take him to the grave and let him figure it out himself.” I replied, rubbing my hand against the back of my head. I do that when I get nervous. Frank and Gerard nodded.
“The plans for tonight are still on, right?” Frank asked. I nodded. Damian was done with his cake, having some frosting smeared across his tiny face. He was small for his age, just like me when I was a kid. Of course, then I grew quite large.
“Daddy, can we go now? I wanna meet her.” He asked.
“Okay. I have to get one thing on the way there, if that’s fine.” I replied, grabbing my car keys. He nodded and grabbed his favorite teddy bear. It was the one Skylar had gotten him a few days before she died. The little black thing had gotten a bit tattered, and Damian had requested that whenever it got ripped, I had to use red thread to sew it up with. Yes, I know how to sew.
The car ride was not very long, but not very short either, considering the fact that I needed to stop at the florist. I wanted to bring her flowers. I picked out four of the darkest red roses I could find. They were the color of the blood she had so dearly loved to watch poor out of a human body. Damian was still questioning where she was, what she was like, what her name was, if she was pretty. I had never told him anything about his mother, besides the fact that she had been gone since he was six months old. We arrived at the Glendale Cemetery, much to the confusion of Damian.
“Does mommy live near here?” He said, looking out at the varying shades of grey on the headstones.
“You could say that.” I said, unbuckling him from his car seat helping him out of the car. I gave him a tiny rose and said not to drop it as we quietly walked down a long, winding dirt road. We came upon her headstone, the same dull grey as the others in the area.
“This is your mom, D.” I said, placing the roses in front of the slab of cold stone. Damian stared up at me, looking to be totally emotionless.
“Skylar Eve, beloved mother, fiancee, and friend.” It read. He took his tiny flower and placed it next to mine, hugging the stone as he backed away from it.
“Hi, mommy.” He said quietly, sitting down about a foot away. “Why’d you have to be buried, mommy? Why didn’t you stay with me? Anyways, daddy said you’re real pretty and real smart. I bet you were a real good mommy before you died. Oh! And guess what! I turned four today! And we had yummy cake that uncle Ray baked. Did you like him when you were here?” He rambled on about the sprinkles and the presents. I didn’t tell him that it was Ray who killed Skylar. He just knew she was dead. Not how. I still remember that night, and I have no doubt that it will haunt my dreams forever.
11/3/13