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razzle-zazzle · 28 days ago

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Whumptober Day 16: Necrosis

Swamp (pond) + "No, I can't feel anything"

3271 Words; Coleverlord, 7 and 2 years pre-canon

TW for drowning, attempted filicide, near-death experiences, emotional manipulation, repeated use of bugs as symbolism

AO3 ver

“Lilly, what were you thinking?”

The words were spoken in a low hiss, almost inaudible to Cole as he approached the kitchen. He came to stop just before the doorway as his mother’s voice filtered out into the hall.

“That’s not—I’m only doing what I have to.” She said, sounding strained, and Cole shuffled forwards nervously. He leaned around the frame and peered through the doorway.

+=+=+=+=+

The rock overturned, shedding light on the creatures below.

The afternoon sun shone bright overhead, while the soil beneath the mud was soft and damp. Cole stared as a particularly large roly-poly crawled along the underside of the rock. A centipede scurried away from the light to another rock to hide under, and Cole shoved his hand into the dirt—there!

Cole yanked the worm out of the dirt and held it, looking it over as it wriggled. The eight year old left the rock upside-down as he stood to go find his mom, intent on showing her his prize.

+=+=+=+=+

The waiting room smelled vaguely floral, in a way that Cole wasn’t sure was from perfume or cleaning products. There weren’t many other people here besides him and his dad—just another visitor talking quietly with the receptionist.

Cole wasn’t entirely sure why he was even here. It was a weekend, and he had dance practice in two hours, and there wasn’t really much to do here in the waiting room—which added up to one bored thirteen year old. Still, his dad had insisted, and there wasn’t much else Cole could do; it got him out of the house in a way that his lack of friends couldn’t do.

(The garden pond had been empty for years now.)

Eventually, a nurse came along, standing before them with a warm smile. It scrabbled at the back of Cole’s mind, and the nurse twitched before sliding their eyes away from Cole and onto his dad.

“She’s ready for visitors, right this way.”

+=+=+=+=+

She had been acting kind of… different, lately, though Cole couldn’t really pinpoint when the changes started. But it felt like she looked at him less, or kept ending conversations early. She was going on more of her trips, too, and telling him less about her adventures when she got back. It felt… Cole frowned, then shrugged, leaning to look around one of his mom’s prized rose bushes.

(It felt cold, like a whisper in his mind. But when Cole reached out for his mother so she could banish that shadow creeping up his back—

She turned away.)

+=+=+=+=+

Both of his parents were backlit by the setting sun through the window over the sink, casting shadows that reached the door. They moved like a dance—constantly responding to each other, movements made in tandem. Cole had never seen his parents dance like this, though, all tense and angry.

(And he was the cause of that, wasn’t he?)

“By trying to drown our son?!” His dad’s voice was low, trembling, on the verge of spilling out to a yell. Cole had seen his dad upset, and disappointed, and worried before—but never quite like this, never quite so unsteady.

+=+=+=+=+

There she was, kneeling by the pond she had dug a few years ago. She was wearing that sunhat dad had gotten her for her birthday, the one that Cole had helped him pick out, with the shiny fake beetle settled among pretty fake flowers along the band. She was humming, a tune Cole recognized from one of dad’s songs, and Cole grinned.

“Momma, look!” Where a year ago Cole would have run right up to his mom without hesitation, now he approached more carefully.

His mom’s gaze snapped up from the dandelion she had been carefully digging out to him, eyes wide for a moment before they narrowed. “Cole.” She greeted, not unkindly—she hadn’t called him her little Pebble in a while. Cole was sure it was because he was almost nine—his mom must have thought him too old for baby nicknames. She smiled, but made no further movement towards Cole. The dandelion in her hands twisted slightly.

+=+=+=+=+

The halls of the place had the same vaguely floral scent as the waiting room, but with a more chemical undertone. So probably cleaning products. Ants marched a spiral under Cole’s skin, cobwebs at the edge of his vision. The nurse picked up the pace.

Finally, with his dad’s hand on his shoulder, they made it to room 424. The nurse scurried off, and Cole’s dad took the first step through the doorway, to the room beyond.

After a moment, Cole followed, shadows thick around his ankles.

(Cole still hated going out to the garden if he could help it.)

+=+=+=+=+

“Look!” Cole proudly showed off what he had managed to find, opening his hand so his mom could see the worm in full. “That’s another one for the compost bin, right?” He wasn’t sure why it felt like his mom was drifting away, lately, but she was still his mom. She’d always love him—of that he was sure.

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” His mom agreed, then, “but the compost bin has enough worms.” She gripped the stem of the dandelion a little tighter, and added, “Why don’t you put the worm back where you found it? We wouldn’t want it to dry out.”

+=+=+=+=+

“That’s not my son!” His mother argued, gripping the counter with enough force to crack it. “That—that’s not Cole.” She repeated, her whole body wound up like a spring. “That—that thing—can’t you see our son is gone?”

(What had Cole done wrong?)

“Lilly…” Cole watched as his dad reached out, hand ghosting over his mother’s shoulder before retreating. “My love, you’re not well.” He sighed, muttering something Cole didn’t catch.

Cole flinched back as sudden pain spiked in his head. The shadows creeping into the hall seemed to melt, something clawing its way towards his parents. They didn’t notice the motion, didn’t react to the creeping crawling clawing in their shadows—

+=+=+=+=+

“Oh.” Well, it was still a cool worm, so it wasn’t like Cole had really wasted his mom’s time. “Okay.” He turned around to go find that rock, worm in hand. His mom watched him go, and her gaze felt like a shadow scurrying up Cole’s neck.

Cole returned to the rocks to find most of the revealed critters had either gone further into the dirt or under other rocks. Cole hummed as he scraped out a small depression in the soil with his fingers, then he gently set the worm into it. “Eat lots of dirt and keep the soil healthy, okay?” He covered the worm with loose soil, patted it for luck, then slowly reset the rock so that the spot was covered again.

+=+=+=+=+

His mother smiled warmly. She looked different than Cole remembered, much of her strength lost to illness. She also seemed… shorter.

You’ve gotten taller, Vessel.

Oh, yeah that.

Cole glanced at his dad, who nodded towards Cole’s mother. After a moment, Cole approached, something squirming in his chest. His mother opened her mouth to speak—

Only to be cut off by a cough that made her shoulders heave and shake. Cole’s chest itched, a little like a burn but not quite.

How far the mighty have fallen.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole wandered around for a bit, poking at the soil between the rocks and looking for weeds to pull, dirt on his hands and knees getting smeared onto his arms and shins—somehow. It wasn’t like he was trying to get covered in dirt, it just sort of happened. Much to his dad’s chagrin and mom’s amusement—though the last time Cole had unthinkingly tracked mud into the house, his dad fretting and asking him to please go wash his hands before dinner, his mom hadn’t said a thing.

As Cole wandered around, he ended up somewhere behind his mom, who had moved on to inspecting her roses while Cole began to dig at the soil where he was sitting. After digging and covering a few holes, his mom had ended up standing by the pond again, bending down to look at the water while Cole hummed.

+=+=+=+=+

His mother pulled back sharply. “I’m fine.” She said, harsher than Cole had ever heard her talk to his dad.

(Why didn’t his mother want him anymore?)

“Lilly,” His dad was speaking through grit teeth, “I came home to find you drowning Cole in the pond.” He grabbed at her arm. “You’re not well.” His expression softened, for a moment, and he stepped forwards. “My love—”

“Don’t call me that.” Cole’s mother snapped, shadow clawing up her back. Cole’s head pounded.

+=+=+=+=+

“Cole?” His mom’s voice floated over to where Cole was, soft and… nahh, Cole was just imagining that uncertainty. His mom fought dragons; she could never be uncertain!

“Yeah?” Cole asked, looking up from the hole he’d been digging—and then moving to put the soil back real quick before standing up.

“Can you come here?” His mom wasn’t looking at him, instead staring at the water. Cole stared at the floral print of her shirt—old and faded from time; she’d had that shirt for as long as Cole could remember and often wore it when gardening—at the sunlight on her back. It looked much warmer than the shadow he could feel clinging to his—even though the sun was beaming down onto Cole all the same.

+=+=+=+=+

His dad’s hand on his back prompted Cole to shuffle forwards, close enough to the bed for him to see his mother clearly. There was a chair there—one of his dad’s jackets was slung over the back. It was the only chair, but Cole took it at his dad’s prompting.

The shadow in his mind raised Its hackles. Cole stared at his mother—he wasn’t sure what else to do. He hadn’t seen her since…

(rough rock against his shins cold water around his chest and head and arms face pressed into the mud chest burning—)

Shh, hush now.

The memory fled to the back of his mind. Cole shifted in his seat as his mother and dad greeted each other.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole stood as his mom’s words registered. The shadow at his heels hissed, cold around Cole’s ankles. For a moment he felt held in place, before he shook it off. “Yeah, Momma?” He walked over to stand at his mom’s side, a thin line of stones separating him from the pond. “What’d you need?”

One moment he was standing next to the river-smooth rocks lining the edge of the pond, his mother kneeling next to him. And then he was under the pond water, his legs folded under him as a heavy hand pushed him down by his shoulders.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole stumbled back, away from the door and the way his parents were moving together like a dance except wrong, away away away until he was in his bedroom and the kitchen felt like a distant memory.

Light from the setting sun filtered in, hazy through the thin curtains. Cole flicked the light switch, but it did nothing to banish the shadows dancing at the corners of his vision. His head swam, and he swallowed hard.

(What was wrong with him?)

+=+=+=+=+

Cole sputtered, palms smacking against the mud at the bottom of the pond as he tried to push himself out. The hands on his shoulders only pushed harder, impossibly heavy against his back. Cole squirmed, holding his breath as he tried to—to wiggle free, or push himself up—

The mud at the bottom of the pond was very soft, and very slick. Tiny fish scattered away from Cole’s thrashing, and he couldn’t breathe—

Momma where are you come help—

Cole struggled, but the hands on his back pushed down harder, his nose inches away from the mud at the bottom of the pond. Why wasn’t—where was—his mom had just been right there, how was he—

Momma, I’m scared.

+=+=+=+=+

“And how have you been?” It took Cole a moment to realize his mother was talking to him. Something about her words made him uneasy, isopods scuttling around his organs. His dad had stepped out of the room at some point, though Cole had no idea why.

“Fine.” Cole answered, not sure what else to say.

(She’d said he wasn’t his son.)

“That’s… good.” Was his mother getting nervous? Well, that wasn’t unusual—Cole had that effect on people.

(“You’re a freak.” An upended milk carton soaking into his hair and shirt—)

“Are you… doing well in school?” His mother asked. “I…” her lips pursed, “heard you got into a fight.”

“They started it.” Cole responded, pulling his legs up and folding them in front of his chest, resting his chin on his knees. Worms wiggled up his spine. “I finished it.”

(Between talking to classmates and being left alone, Cole preferred being left alone.)

+=+=+=+=+

Cole gasped, water rushing in as he inhaled against his will. He tried to kick his legs, but couldn’t quite manage it with how they had buckled under him. Cold water rushed down his throat, burning into his lungs—

Cole choked. The hands on his back leaked cold shadows that crawled all over his body, whispers slinking around behind his eyes like roly-polys under the rocks. He was too tired to thrash, now, his chest burning burning burning as cold spilled out from his core. The hands on his back pulled back, for a brief moment, then shoved down with such force that Cole’s face was pressed into the mud, cold water crawling up his legs towards his ankles.

Momma, I ‘ m s c a r e d—

The heavy shadows at his back shifted. Cole drifted, not quite aware as something burst into the water and grabbed his shoulders. The new hands yanked, and Cole came up out of the mud and then the water, hair plastered to his forehead.

Cole stumbled backwards, warm arms wrapping around him. Someone was talking, but Cole couldn’t quite hear it through the rushing in his ears and the shadow clawing up his chest and the whispers in his throat. Something inside him seemed to shift—

Cole vomited, hacking up water. His chest burned, muddy pond water dribbling from his lips down his chin onto the rocks before him as he coughed and coughed and coughed.

+=+=+=+=+

His head hurt. The shadows swirled, cascading across his room. It sounded like whispers. It sounded like too many ants marching along, every footstep magnified so that he could hear it. Cole rubbed at his arms, brushed still-damp hair away from his forehead—it wasn’t enough. There was something creeping up his back and arms and neck and chest, something clawing at his ribs from the inside.

Cole stumbled back, legs catching on his bed. He laid there, staring up at the ceiling, at the way the shadows interlaced with the light of the setting sun.

The shadow creeping up his back curled around his shoulders like a blanket made from the twitching legs of a thousand house centipedes. Like a spider, something crawled along the inside of his head as whispers blinked in and out of Cole’s vision.

There is nothing wrong with you, Vessel.

Cole blinked. He glanced around, looking for the source of the voice—

His head wrenched to the side as if pulled by some invisible hand, locking his gaze on the mirror on his closet door.

+=+=+=+=+

The smear of colors that was the world started to resolve itself; Cole’s dad was staring at him, hair ruffled and chest heaving.

Cole’s head hurt. Water had soaked into all of his clothes, cold and heavy. His mom said something sharply behind him, and Cole’s head twisted to look back at her of its own accord.

Her hands were soaked, and her shirt must have been splashed at some point, splattered with wet spots. There was mud on her knees, and her sunhat had fallen off at some point, some of her hair having fallen loose from its bun.

+=+=+=+=+

His mother smiled. It was clearly strained. Cole stared at her, a million ants marching around in his skull. Shadows clung to the walls like cobwebs, slowly dripping down and reaching for his mother. He wondered why his dad had stepped out of the room—was his mother really doing that much better, now that she didn’t have to look at him?

Well. Better being a relative term—she was still sick and slowly dying, but at least she could look at him without wanting to shove him in the nearest body of water.

His mother looked away, her breaths coming in stuttered and shaky. So… not doing better, then.

Of course not. Get away from her, Vessel. She will only bring you to ruin.

His mother grabbed for her panic button, shadows clawing at the bed from all sides. Cole’s head pounded in a distant sort of way, millions of skittering spiders creeping under his skin. He wrapped his arms around his knees, curling up tighter as though it might somehow save him from the crushing pressing in on all sides—

And then his dad’s hand was back on Cole’s shoulder, and Cole was being led out of the room while his mother struggled to breathe through painful-sounding coughs and her own panic. Cole let himself be shuffled down the hall, chest wound tight the entire way to the waiting room.

His dad looked pained. “She had been doing so well…” he mumbled, not quite low enough for Cole not to hear.

Cole grimaced. His head stopped throbbing, the ants and the spiders and the centipedes and the worms and the isopods and the bees and the flies coming to a rest, shadows receding to the very edges of his vision.

It clawed at his brain, hissing reassurance while Cole sat in the waiting room. His dad had gone back, leaving Cole alone except for the receptionist, who was busy with her computer and didn’t really count.

(He preferred to be left alone—though, in truth, Cole was never alone.)

+=+=+=+=+

Cole’s dad gave him one more smack on the back, and Cole coughed up spit and water. His dad’s hands were also wet, but they weren’t heavy against Cole’s back.

Something tickled at the back of Cole’s head. His eyes slipped closed, the world blurring around him as shadows danced across his vision. His parents were—they were saying stuff to each other, but Cole couldn’t make out the words. His father’s tie became a smear of color against his suit.

Cole slumped forwards, shadows filling his vision.

+=+=+=+=+

His eyes looked… funny. Not quite right. There was something fuzzy in Cole’s head, something slithering around inside his skull, leaching out from his eyes to cradle his head. Cole tried to look away, but his head wouldn’t move at all.

(Cold mud against his face and water in his chest—)

Shh, hush now.

The memory retreated back to the eves of Cole’s mind, hidden under crawling shadow as Cole continued to stare at his reflection. The voice in his head crooned, a lilting melody filling Cole’s ears.

You have done nothing wrong, Vessel.

The voice… it sounded right. It felt like flies buzzing inside his skull, but—

Cole’s head pounded, but the pain was distant, now. The lingering burn in his chest faded, and Cole watched, disinterested, as the shadows in his reflection shifted into a smiling face. His worry melted away.

The sun had set to the point where barely any light was filtering into Cole’s room, now, and he could hardly see his reflection in the gloom. But two glowing points in the mirror grinned at him, shadows carding through still-damp hair.

Cole’s eyes slipped closed, shadows filling his vision.

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