I guess I should start with a little backstory. I’m a single father to a beautiful three and a half year old boy, I love him with all my heart and soul. His mother left with him when he was just a baby and refused to let me see him. I had to go through a lengthy and painful court case but eventually I was granted joint custody, then not too long afterwards his mother left and it was just us two.
I left my job in security to look after him full time. It wasn’t easy, as I’m sure any single parent will tell you, but it was extremely rewarding. We don’t have any other family so it’s just us and that’s how it’s been for the past two years. Now to my predicament, we’ve both had a bit of a stomach bug for the past few days and have spent all the time just chilling, watching films on the couch. Yesterday morning when I woke up my son was in much better spirits. He was bouncing around the room and laughing happily and seemed, for the most part, to be completely recovered.
Next thing I know he runs up and jumps on my bed bouncing and demanding I wake up. I rolled over, pulled the covers over me and let out a huge snore, pretending I was still fast asleep. This only egged him on though of course and before long he was furiously jumping up and down screaming “daaaaaddddy, daaaaaaaadddy, waaaaaake uuuuuuuup” I felt him grab hold of the cover and pull them off me. I kept my head down and continued to feign sleeping but instead of the laughter I expected, I suddenly heard him dry heaving before I felt the downpour of sickly pungent vomit wash over my head and seep down, some crawling its way into my ear canal before my brain was even able to register what had happened.
I stood up and tried my best not to add to the pile of vomit now forming on my bed. I quickly grabbed my son and took him to the bathroom. It wasn’t until I tried to start cleaning it that I realised my son was in hysterics. Of course none of this is all that odd, he obviously just wasn’t fully recovered and all the jumping around caused him to be sick, nothing unusual. That is, until I tried to calm him. He screamed and recoiled when I moved towards him, I tried to shush him gently and tell him it would all be okay but the very sight of me seemed to terrify him.
I realised it was probably the sight of me covered in vomit that was upsetting him and so I left him at the toilet and tried to clean myself up at the kitchen sink. The screams of my son in the bathroom were hard to ignore but I managed, with some panic and urgency, to clean myself up. I went back to my son and held him close as he slowly started to calm down and eventually fall asleep.
I left him to sleep on the couch for as long as he needed while I cleaned the bed and put the clothes away for washing. His reaction when I first tried to comfort him stuck with me though, why did he freak out so much at vomit? It’s not like he hasn’t been sick before. Eventually I managed to clean everything up and not long after heard him stir and awake. He was sitting up peacefully on the couch when I went back in and I was relieved he seemed to be okay now. It was short lived however, as soon as he saw me standing in the door he started whimpering and before I could even think he doubled over and violently puked all over the floor.
Of course the first thing I did was call the doctor’s and explain what was happening. I should mention I did check him for a temperature and any rashes earlier while he slept. He seemed to be fine but we made an appointment at the doctor for later that day anyway.
It was very hard to get him to stop crying, just the sight of me seemed to stress him out greatly. Which I’m sure you can imagine didn’t feel too great for me. I thought maybe I had upset him somehow, maybe it’s just an extremely bad tantrum coupled with the shock of being so violently sick. Eventually he did calm down and was able to sit next to me although he was very obviously trying his best to avoid looking at me. I asked him what was wrong, if his tummy hurt or if daddy did something to scare him. He whimpered, pointed at me and said “daddy, your head” before he went pale and started crying again. I touched my head, thinking maybe there was still some sick or something and that seemed to be confirmed when I felt a slick, sticky wetness on the top of my head.
I couldn’t understand how I’d missed that, I went for a shower while he slept and it had been a few hours since then and the vomit would’ve surely been dry at this point. I went to check the mirror. When I saw the horror of my reflection I winced. Actually I think I stared at it for over an hour trying to make some sense of it.
It just had no logical explanation, it defied the laws of physics, biology, nature. It was like looking at an impossible shape. Although it wasn’t what I saw that was impossible. It was the fact I was seeing it which made no sense. I gently touched the pulsing gaping wound in my head and felt the spongy but firm decaying brainmatter within. I’ve never felt a sensation as strange my fingers sliding gently across the folds and curves of my brain. It looked almost as surreal as it felt, it was like a beaten blood soaked sponge in my head, squeezing out thick red liquid at every touch. I realised I could feel a breeze inside my skull, there was an empty space at the back where some of my brain had been severed and was now dangling carelessly out the back of my skull. I traced the large crack from the top of my skull down toward my nose where the two halves of my face gradually met again. My left eye was bulging out and for a moment I considered trying to squeeze it back in. I knew it would be a futile gesture at this point though.
The thing that scared me most wasn’t my ghastly appearance though, it was the realisation that came afterwards. My infant son would be alone in this house with my corpse, unable to get food or water. We had no other family and he wasn’t expected at nursery for the next week. I knew I had only one chance to save him, I had to tell someone. I tried using my phone but I could no longer form words with my mouth. My jaw had slowly started to tighten and lock. I used the last of my strength to lift my phone and started typing. My fingers are getting stiffer and stiffer as I type this, please someone go to 49 kignnr strrssdt. Nrjhhaveb, ple we s saawjve Msy son