My room had been smelling for weeks. I didn’t think much of it because my mom hates spending money on things she doesn’t “have” to, so our septic tank can sometimes be smelled throughout our house.
It constantly smell like shit and it makes me feel sick every day. Now, if I’m not at work I’m lying in bed getting more queasy with every hour.
My mom gets angry at me because she says she needs emotional support during the rough patch she’s going through. We found out recently that her live in boyfriend has been cheating on her in our house.
I don’t know at what time of the day this had been going on, but I swore to her I had no clue. Or at least that I hadn’t seen anything.
Truth is he’s always been an asshole and the fact that he could cheat was no a huge surprise. My mom’s always been the naive type, so when she let the guy move in after a few days of dating I wasn’t surprised.
Apparently, when she found them she went a little crazy. Throwing things, trashing his stuff, punching his mistress kind of crazy. Now he comes back every so often to yell at her through the front door, but I never know what he’s saying cause I’m always in bed.
The other day, though, my stomach was hurting so much that I decided to stay home. The doorbell rang and I went to get it without realizing it could’ve been my mom’s ex.
I didn’t answer, but he had already saw me through the front door’s window, so it wasn’t like I could pretend I wasn’t there. He pleaded with me to listen and started throwing off crazy questions.
“Has your mom mentioned my girlfriend?”
“Do you know where she is?”
“I know she did something!”
I told him to leave before I called the cops, so after a few long moments he decided to take my words seriously and leave.
After that confrontation my stomach started hurting even more. I tried to go back into bed, but moments before I could climb in I threw up on floor, right besides the mattress.
The smell was horrible as I hunched over on the floor. I knew I needed to clean the vomit before it made me throw up again, so I grabbed towels and began to soak up the mess.
That’s when I saw it. Beneath my bed, in the plastic under storage that usually holds my winter clothes was something that wasn’t supposed to be there.
It was bright red and I could see liquid pooling at the bottom. I grabbed the storage container and pulled it out from under my bed. The figure was so mangled that it was hard to tell, but from the matted hair and the gallon of deep red blood at the bottom I knew it was a woman.
A woman shoved into a container. Stored under my bed. Who I had sleeping over for who knows how long. I threw up again and again, trying to get the image out of my head, but it’s no use. My mother gets home in an hour and I don’t know what to do.
She’s my mother… I love her. She couldn’t have done something like this, right? And if it was her then why under my bed?