|Norman Bates (i_shower) wrote in we_coexist,|
@ 2008-11-10 22:43:00
|Entry tags:||mother, norman bates, zombies|
Something in the Cellar [Narrative]
NORMAN! THERE'S SOMEONE IN THE HOUSE! NORMAN! NORRRRMAAAAAN! THERE'S SOMEONE IN MY HOUSE!
For the most part, Mother had been quiet since Norman's return to The City. But today she was, quite literally, raising hell. Norman had been up and down the house. From top to bottom. And he hadn't found anything. Not one shred of evidence that someone was in the house. He was beginning to think that Mother was losing her mind. Of course, he would never tell her that. Oh no. He wouldn't dream of confronting Mother about her sanity. But she was different. She was crazier than she used to be.
"I don't see anyone, Mother. Where are they?"
THEY WERE HERE! HERE IN MY GODDAMNED ROOM! AND WHERE WERE YOU?! WHERE WERE YOU MY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING WORTHLESS SON?! OFF FRATERNIZING WITH THAT FRED WOMAN, NO DOUBT. OFF SCREWING AROUND WITH THAT WHORE WHILE THE BEAST TRIED TO RIP MY HEAD OFF! YES, YOU HEARD ME, NORMAN. RIP MY HEAD OFF. AND EAT MY BRAINS FOR ALL I KNOW!
Norman scrambled upstairs to Mother's bedroom and stood in the doorway.
"I don't know who you're talking about, Mother! I don't know what you're talking about!"
Come closer, Norman. COME CLOSER AND SEE WHAT THEY'VE DONE TO YOUR POOR MOTHER!
Norman carefully stepped into the room, his right foot immediately slipping on something on the floor. He looked down, afraid of what he was going to find. Blood. Blood?!
"Blood... Mother! There's blood all over the floor!" Norman cried out, pushing himself back up against the wall. "Wh-wh-where did it come from?!"
Where do you think it came from you pathetic no-good excuse for a son?! It came from your dear sweet mother! That bastard came in and tried to rip me to shreds! It's amazing I can still speak! And you don't care about me! You weren't here to protect me from the beast!
Norman was confused. He stared down at the floor. Blood. Who's blood? Mother's blood?
"But ... B-but it can't be. You're fine. And I'm f-fine. Right? It's not my blood..."
But just to be sure, Norman checked himself over. His arms were unscratched. His legs were in the same condition they had always been. And Mother? Mother was fine. Was she lying? She couldn't be. There was blood everywhere.
"Mother! Who's blood is this?!"
MY SON HATES ME! HE LEAVES ME HERE TO DEFEND MYSELF AGAINST THE MONSTER!
The one in the cellar, you ungrateful idiot!
Norman gulped and peeked back out the bedroom door to the stairs. There was blood on the stairs. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was blood on the stairs. And it wasn't his blood. He knew it wasn't his blood. Was there really someone in the cellar? Something in the cellar? Hadn't he checked the cellar? He couldn't remember. And Mother seemed to be so sure of herself. She was much more coherent today than usual. But the cellar--
Well? What are you waiting for? Get rid of it!
And Norman slowly walked down the stairs.