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[Clayton]

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A Terrible Wife And A Horrible Mother
By, Clayton Overstreet



Kayla’s son Toby started going crazy one day. He swore that there was something in mirrors that was trying to get out and get him. “They crawl out and take your place and push you back into the mirror. You can tell because there’s something wrong with them. Just little things, but you can notice if you check.” He would scream and fight if anyone tried to get him to go into the bathroom until his parents took the mirror out. Even then he went in with electrical tape and covered all the shiny surfaces like the faucet. When he went to school he was caught peeing outside several times refusing to enter any bathroom or class with a mirror.
Finally they had to send him to an upstate mental facility where, less than two days in, he had to be put into isolation. If anyone brought a mirror close he would become panicked and even violent. They had to put him in a straight jacket and keep him in a rubber room.
Soon his father Ted became frustrated as Toby refused to even speak to him and stopped going in to the building, but Kayla would visit at least once a week. However when she came every time he would just glare at her with his ice-blue eyes and say, “You are a terrible wife and a horrible mother.”
One day she just broke into tears and shouted back. “Why? What makes you think I’m so awful? Honey, you’re scaring everyone. You are here because we’re worried about you. I don’t know what I did to make you like this, but please tell me and maybe the doctors could help you. I am just trying to do what’s best for you.”
He told her calmly, “You didn’t do anything to cause this mom. This isn’t your fault. Actually I feel very safe in here and I do not want to leave. But you are still a terrible wife and a horrible mother.”
“Why?” She pleaded. “I just want to understand.”
He leaned in and whispered in her ear.
A few moments later she ran out of the hospital and saw her husband waiting for her by the car. Ted opened the door for her and got into the driver’s seat. He noticed a far away look on her eyes as Kayla kept staring at the road. “Something wrong sweetie?”
“No, I’m fine.” But as they went she seemed to get more and more agitated.
When they got home Kayla walked inside and stopped to stare at the wall where so many of their family photos were hung up. It seemed like every time she saw those ice blue eyes of her son they got colder and colder, looking back at her from the pictures accusingly. She looked at them and began shaking and sobbing. It got worse until her husband came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms. Kayla turned and through her tears she looked up into his comforting brown eyes as he stroked her hair.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
She wanted to answer, but the words choked in her throat. She just kept staring up at him, shaking and with tears streaming down her cheeks. Finally she croaked, “I really am a terrible wife and a horrible mother.”
He looked confused. “Why?”
She almost answered but again was unable to say anything. Kayla felt a scream building. She was cracking and soon she was going to start shrieking and never, ever stop. All the while that last sentence her son had said before she left the facility repeating in her mind over and over again.
“Weren’t dad’s eyes the same color as mine?”










Sometimes when I am alone and nobody else is here,
I go into the bathroom and have a staring contest with my mirror.
It kills time when I get bored,
I have done it again and again,
But it still makes me feel uneasy,
Every time I win.
☺░☻

Anime is a lot like sex. Done right it's a beautiful act of creation that bring

[Clayton]

Nobody else has anything huh?

 

 

Smile

 

 

 

  Mr. Bryson was a strange teacher. A good one, nobody had any complaints. Handsome too. Tall and good looking with muscles and a handsome face. But strange. Oh he showed his face, but he never showed his teeth when he smiled and seemed to be licking behind his lips with his tongue pushing against them. Every time he spoke he seemed to face away or put something in front of his mouth. Lecturing from behind books or when he faced the chalkboard. 

  Linda was a good student, but she noticed things. Maybe she had a little crush on him too. Either way small things caught her attention. Like how sometimes when he passed by he smelled like nail polish, though his fingers were usually just trimmed. She had seen polish on his desk a few times. A bottle of white that she could see went down from time to time and then was replaced with a new one. As if he was painting his nails every day. Except he was not.

  She wondered if he did his toes. She had an uncle who had become her aunt. Was Mr. Bryson a cross dresser or transgender? Was he hiding lipstick either on his mouth or maybe on his teeth?

  Linda had no problem with that, but she was curious. She even asked him about why he hid his mouth all the time, after everyone else left class. He said, “When I was young it turned out I had a condition. I would lose a baby tooth but a new one would not grow in. I got teased and bullied a lot. Even beat up. Some kids hit me trying to knock out more teeth so they could see.

  “We were poor but my daddy was a medicine man out in the swamps where we grew up. Lots of family had a similar problem. We couldn’t afford a dentist or anything like that, so we found a work around. It helped me replace my teeth, but it still looks strange, so I keep it to myself.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” she said, lying a bit.

  She was still curious and she kept noticing the nail polish smell and everything and she got curious. One day at the end of school it was hot and there was little studying to be done. Mr. Bryson sent everyone outside the play. Linda saw through the class window as he lay back with a book over his face to take a nap in the chair behind his desk.

  Unable to contain her inquisitiveness she snuck back into the class. She had to know what his teeth looked like. Was he telling the truth? Was he hiding lipstick? Maybe she could even, she thought with a blush, sneak a little kiss.

  She tiptoed in as the sounds of children playing drifted in from outside and went over to where he laid, chest rising and falling. Gently she lifted the book and was relieved when he did not twitch awake. Enjoying the room’s air conditioning on the hot day. His lips were lipstick free and looked very kissable to the young lady, parted just a little as he breathed.

  Linda leaned in and was about to kiss him when she caught a glimpse inside. At first she was not sure what was wrong. She could see nice white teeth peeking through his lips. All in a neat row. Then it looked like maybe he had swollen gums. And they seemed so tiny. Almost like baby teeth.

  Kiss forgotten she reached up and gently tugged down his lip with a fingertip. She almost screamed right then and there.

  Those were not teeth. She saw neat rows of white things almost the same shape, but she realized they were not actually teeth. They were fingernails. Each painted white. Still attached to fingertips. Not a full grown man’s, but small ones. Like those of young children. Each poking out of his gums in two neat rows. They were not just stuck in place either. They wiggled just a little and she realized that it had not been his tongue moving behind his lips all those times he smiled at all. Near the back was one gaping hole, as if from a recently removed molar or maybe a wisdom tooth.

  Something moved and she looked up into his open eyes. With a squeal she backed up and fell across the desk.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, the sight of his mouth moving over those painted nails sending a wave of nausea through Linda as he grabbed her arm. She screamed, but with the kids playing outside it was one of many as his other hand clapped over her mouth. “You were always one of my favorite students Linda. Too bad. I guess I’ll have to move on again. I’ll miss you and all the other kids. But don’t worry; I’ll always have something to remember you by.” Pressing her back into the desk he gripped her arm and she watched in wide eyed panic as he slammed her hand back onto the paper cutter raising up the sliding blade, forcing her hand over to the line.

 

***

 

  When the kids came in after the bell rang they did not find Mr. Bryson and eventually someone noticed Linda was missing too. But there was blood on the desk. They went and got help and soon they found the girl at least, in the supply closet unconscious.

  “What happened to her hand?” Someone asked when they saw that the tip of her little finger on her left hand was missing, bleeding all over the bottom of the closet.