her "son"
The first time Jessica Clark looked at the baby swaddled in her arms, she didn't feel anything. Not the pain from the pregnancy that happened ago. Not the usual overwhelming feelings a mother had when she laid her eyes upon her newborn.
Not love.
Daniel Clark stood at her side. His face was blank, too. Their eyes slowly met each others'.
"I wanted a daughter," Jessica said.
+++++
Maybe she was too young when she had her child, the boy, her "son," named Aiden. Was that--he--really hers?
Sometimes she felt guilty, even a bit regretful. She didn't like when the child followed her around, calling her "Mama" and "Mom." She wasn't his parent. She was just someone who gave birth.
She knew Daniel wasn't really happy, either. The child was restless, always moving and making a mess. In their pristine house, she hated when he made messes. Why couldn't the child just stay still? Why couldn't he just...be quiet?
+++++
She and Daniel decided to leave for a week. Just a week, nothing more, nothing less. Maybe if the child learned to live on his own, he could stay while she and her husband went somewhere else. After all, it'd be good for them.
Right?
They left in the middle of the night. The child was still sound asleep in his room.
When they came back, the house was a mess. The toys were strewn everywhere, the child's bed was unmade, and the door was left open.
Why was the child like this?
Why couldn't he just be normal?
Why did she even have him, anyway?
They found him asleep in their bed, eyes closed but streaming with tears.
"Mama...Papa..." he was saying, voice shaking.
Jessica wanted to yell.
She wasn't his mother.
+++++
The child soon turned older in a flash. His eyes were dark, matching his hair.
But one weekend, he came home with his hair bleached and his eyes rust red.
Why couldn't you just be normal? Jessica wanted to scream as he entered. Why couldn't you be like any other kid?
When his eyes met hers, they startled her.
Not just because of the red.
His eyes were empty.
+++++
As he continued growing, Jessica managed to call him by his first name. She got used to it, but sometimes it felt alien in her mouth.
She wanted a daughter, but instead she got a son.
She wanted a normal child, but there seemed to be something wrong with him.
She wanted to leave this house, but she felt the need to stay.
As long as she didn't interact with the child, things would be normal.
After all, he wasn't really hers. Just because she called him her "son," that didn't mean she had to think of him as one.
Right?
46 notes
·
View notes
Heya! May I please request for a doodle art of Emo Teen Jean Vicquemare? XD
Here's my list of headcanons for him lololol
https://www.tumblr.com/autiezo/745901172830912512/the-idea-of-emo-teen-jean-vicquemare-lives?source=share
Hii, I haven't drawn Jean that much (2 times lol) but I really want to make those doodles, unfortunately I am really busy right now with exams. Once I find the free time I will gladly do it :3
6 notes
·
View notes
Lmao I went to follow @author-a-holmes' wonderful advice and start an Instagram account, since I hate Facebook and am way too verbose for Twitter, and it immediately said my (brand new, in existence for all of 30 seconds) account was suspended and when I put in my info it said they had to "verify my information" and if they couldn't it sounds stay suspended...but now it just seems to work? I haven't posted anything because I still need to figure out how that works for writer stuff on an image based site, but it let me write my bio and search and such
5 notes
·
View notes