#< ik this isn’t fully explained but…momma had severe postpartum depression which caused her to try and kill thomas various times

[g0ttal0ve101]

Thomas <3

[a/n]: I HATE HIM!!!!!!! stinky tw: implied postpartum depresssion!

Holding the bouquet of flowers tightly to his chest, little Thomas eagerly kicked his feet while sitting in one of the many waiting room chairs. His father, Adrian, sat next to him reading a newspaper and drinking his usual cup of coffee. If it weren’t for the rules they had in place here, Thomas was sure he would’ve had a cigarette between his fingers, too. He hardly saw him without one.

“Dad?”

No reply as usual.

“Daaad.”

Again, no reply.

“Dad!”

Adrian snapped his head up, turning his direction to his little son with a frown. His eyes had the darkest bags beneath them known to mankind. “What is it, buddy?”

Unbeknownst to the nurse approaching him, Thomas asked his question with his full chest. “Why can’t Mom live with us?”

Adrian and the nurse locked eyes. They both laughed almost nervously, exchanging pitiful looks. Thomas didn’t understand what could’ve possibly been funny about his question.

“Thomas, she’s ready to see you now.”

Shaking all the confusion from his mind, Thomas jumped up to his feet and started behind the nurse. He was surprised to see that his father remained seated, going back to reading the newspaper. The mere gesture made little Thomas frown.

“Dad, c’mon!”

The nurse grabbed his arm, redirecting his attention towards her. “He can’t see her right now, honey. She can only see you.”

Heat rose to the back of Thomas’s neck. He hadn’t seen his mother in a long while, so he was hoping that his father would be able to hold most of the conversation together. Without him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to figure out what to say or even how to act. It was his mother, but…

Trying to shake all the thoughts from mind, Thomas held his head high and took broad steps in the direction the young woman led him. Most of the building was colored white or pale blue with art portraits hung up on the walls or positive messages. Most hospitals had that, he supposed.

Passing by the individual rooms, Thomas couldn’t help but take a peek in a few. For the most part they were empty, but in a couple he saw a nurse or doctor speaking to the patient and scribbling down whatever they said. None of the patients looked physically sick, really, which confused him since he figured all hospitals had at least one patient with a broken bone or something.

Screams suddenly flooded the hall. Thomas took a step closer to the nurse, practically jumping on top of her. She grabbed him and gently pushed him out of the middle of the hallway to allow other nurses and the doctor to rush by with a bed. Thomas stared at the panicked individual strapped up on the mattress in utter confusion and disgust. He didn’t understand why someone would act that way in a place where there were various ill people trying to rest.

Little did he know, this was normal behavior for a mental institution — Thomas didn’t even know he was in a mental institution. He assumed his mother was physically sick, that this was just like any other ordinary hospital around, but in reality, it was closer to an asylum than anything else.

That’s why he was puzzled upon walking into his mother’s room. It was plain and pale, with no ledges or sharp corners anywhere in sight. Her mattress was stapled into the frame, her window was too high to jump out of, and her lights were surprisingly dim. Thomas didn’t care for those details though — his eyes were locked with the crib at the end of her bed.

Before he knew it, he was standing before his mother. She looked just as he remembered her, with bright blue eyes and dark brown hair that dusted her shoulders. At first he believed her to be shorter, but soon realized he just grew taller, older, without her. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and cracked a weak smile.

“Here he is, Amelia…” the nurse politely greeted him, patting his back as though she wanted to soothe him a little.

His mother smiled at him, cradling a little baby in her arms. “Well, aren’t you just adorable?” she hummed in that same voice he remembered. Rather than approaching and formally greeting him, she walked over to the crib to set the baby inside.

Thomas followed close behind with the bouquet of flowers, smiling ear-to-ear. When she finally drifted her attention onto him and saw the gift, she smiled just as wide.

“Are these for me? Wow, they’re my favorite too!”

“Yeah! Forget-me-nots a-and, uh…yeah!” Thomas stammered over his words as he looked deeper into her eyes. He never saw her with such calm, gentle eyes. It was as though she had somehow managed to grow fond of him despite being away for so long.

The thought drifted into his mind no matter how hard he tried to escape it. He broke eye contact to look at the crib.

“Um…what’s the baby’s name?”

Noticing where his eyes were, Amelia giggled and turned back toward the crib. “His name is Thomas.”

Thomas laughed a little. “That’s my name, too!”

“Is it?”

That question struck him like a bullet. His eyes grew wide, his mouth agape for a moment before he tried to laugh it off. He figured she was messing with him, that she was playing a joke like all adults do, but found her facial expression unchanged. She simply looked at him with those tranquil blue eyes.

Thomas peered inside the crib. There, he saw a babydoll laying motionless against the blue blankets and sheets. He blinked in disbelief a few times before directing his attention back to his mother, utterly confused and frantic.

“Yeah! I’m Thomas!”

“That’s a beautiful name, sweetheart. My little boy’s named after his Grandfather.”

“I’m named after my Grandfather, too!”

“That’s such a weird coincidence!”

Thomas scoffed, shaking his head. “No, it’s ’cause I’m Thomas. I’m your kid.”

She stared at him blankly. His breaths grew sharp and uneven. He grabbed the end of her shirt, tugging on it a little to somehow get closer.

“Mom, why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Honey, I’m not your mother. Where did you get that from?”

“You are my mother! That’s just a stupid babydoll!”

Before he knew it, the nurse was pulling him away from her. She stood without a trace of emotion written on her face, almost in a daze. She didn’t understand. She didn’t remember.

Struggling against her grip, Thomas raised his voice to her. “Stop pretending you don’t know who I am! You know I’m your son! I’m your only son! The one you tried to kill!”

Upon hearing his little voice screech throughout the building, three other nurses rushed in to pull him out. He kicked and squirmed, trying to get a response. Anything.

“Daddy told me you were a dumb, fucked-out whore! I should’ve listened to him instead of coming to this fucking place!”

No response.

Sobbing hysterically, Thomas’s once angry and bitter words shifted into hiccuped pleas between tears. “Mommy, please! Why are you doing this to me?! Why do you always do this?!”

Once the last syllable left his mouth, he saw tears stream down her face. He wasn’t able to identify what it was she was actually feeling before being dragged out of the room.

It didn’t take long for Adrian to appear from down the hall, rushing to retrieve Thomas from the staff’s grasp. Once he had his little boy in his arms, the real war began.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Don’t you ever put your hands on my son like that!”

“Sir, your son was acting hysterical. We couldn’t let him push her into an episode, we had to remove him from the situation!”

“Do you want to lose your jobs? I’ll make that happen in a fucking heartbeat! Nobody gets to touch my son, you understand?! I don’t care if the whore was close to suicide, none of you have the right to drag him out like that! If there was a problem, you should’ve let me handle it!”

“I understand your anger, but we can’t put our patients at risk! I’m going to have to ask you to leave, okay?”

“I—!”

“Please, sir! You’re causing a disturbance!”

And with that, they were off.

Thomas stared aimlessly out the window on the way home without a single ounce of emotion on his face. It might’ve been shock, maybe anger, maybe both. It was hard to ever tell with Thomas. Despite being on the brink of tears earlier, none of them ever fell. They hadn’t fallen since the day his mother left.

She didn’t remember all the years she spent trying to kill him. She replaced him with a non-sentient babydoll and lived in an asylum without any repercussions or remorse for her actions. Thomas didn’t have a mother who loved him or cared for him — Thomas didn’t have a mother at all. He never really did. He cursed himself for having even a shred of hope that things would be different this time.

It wasn’t fair.

None of it was.

He wanted her to die.

“Prince…” his father spoke gently with his eyes still focused on the road. Thomas didn’t lift his head to look at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how bad she’s gotten since I last saw her.”

Thomas didn’t answer.

“I love you, buddy. Mommy loves you, too. She’s just…she’s not right up there, y’know? She’s sick. That’s why she can’t live with us. Do you understand?”

Lowering his eyes to his lap, Thomas obliged in replying. “…Yeah.”

“I’ll tell you what, honey. You want a new kitty? A puppy? Anything, okay? I’ll get you anything.”

Thomas resented those words. It was how his father solved everything. When Lindsey screamed a little too loud, he’d give him whatever he wanted to make up for it. When he tripped and scraped his knee, the presents would be endless. When his own mother tried to kill him…

“I wanna kitty.” Thomas said with an artificial smile. It never left him.