UPDATE #2: I have mind control powers

I might be in over my head.

On my last update, some of you warned me, you’re fucking with dark powers you don’t understand. Don’t even start. I get it now, okay?

I’m scared.

That’s the point of these anonymous posting boards, right, telling the truth? Well, here it is:

I’M FUCKING SCARED!!!!!!!!!!!!

But I have every intention to see this through. That Thing will NOT underestimate me. I’m stronger than it. I know I’m stronger. I will not lose control.

After Manny, I started using my gift on humans. I didn’t try to tackle a whole person right away. I just started doing small things, mostly on my ignoramus classmates.

That guy that told people I brought a gun to school, sending the cops into my classroom to (fruitlessly) search me? Maybe I sat on the bleachers during his big football game, loosened his sphincter to make him crap his pants in front of the whole school.

That kid that copied from me, then said I copied him when we got caught? Maybe not an accident that he fell asleep during the Anatomy final. Something he had to pass if he was to accept his conditional offer to Yale.

The asshole that paid Angelica S. to ask me out to a 4 hour art movie, then not show up?

I just might have torn some flesh on the inside of his penis so he can’t ever get it up again.

Oh, and remember Becky? I’m working on something real special with Becky.

I’m not gonna make her have sex with me, if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s disgusting. I consider myself the most depraved person I know. I’ve indirectly killed more than one person and I wouldn’t go there. I’ll leave that shit for you weak ones.

School was easy.

The biggest problem, as always, was at home.

You might have guessed from the last update but my dad is a major dilated runny unwiped skidmarking asshole.

And my mom? Well, the weaker sex and all that.

I started to understand that he beat the shit out of her when I was 8. I told my friend (he’s become an asshole since then) I could hear my mom scream at night. He said they were just having sex, that he hears his parents all the time too. For four confusing years I thought sex was a violent, horrible thing. Then I discovered porn. Now that was sex. What I was hearing was a man hitting the woman he swore to protect.

I also got the hint when my mom pulled me out of my bed in the middle of the night. “Don’t wake your dad, please, don’t wake your dad,” tiptoed me to the car, and started driving off.

Then halfway down the block she stopped the car and started crying. “Where would we go?”

This has happened six times.

Forward, I would think, just keep going forward. But every time, she turned around. It’s like she didn’t even want to leave. Or she did, but some dark force was pulling her hands down and around and the wheel with them. Fuck, it wouldn’t surprise me if my dad has mind control powers of his own. At least with her. I don’t know. But every time she turned around, I hated her more for it.

My dad might be controlling her, but why can’t she just break away? Doesn’t she care about herself? Doesn’t she care about me?

Because she’s weak, that’s why.

And I can make her stronger.

When my dad came home from work earlier, he opened the fridge to darkness. He closed it, opened again. The light wasn’t on. Meaning the fridge didn’t work. Meaning the food was rotting. The putrid smell even reached me, on the couch, looking away from the kitchen.

“[Redacted Mom’s name]!!!! Get over here!”

I heard my mom scutter like a little puppy into the kitchen.

“Fridge isn’t working.”

“Oh, it isn’t?”

“You didn’t notice?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s funny, because it smells like a rotting corpse in there.”

As always, he didn’t sound angry. He was composed, calculating. Educational, even, like he was calmly trying to make her understand the world through his angry, twisted eyes. And if she couldn’t twist her own enough…

“It’s been off at least a couple hours, you haven’t gotten anything to make dinner?” He said, quietly.

“Well, I just grabbed the chicken from the freezer.”

“And you said you didn’t notice?”

“Well, I didn’t open the fridge.”

“You didn’t notice the chicken wasn’t, I don’t know, freezing?”

“No.”

“You could have given us salmonella.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Her voice quiet. She knew what was coming. But she’s too weak to even face it.

“If [name redacted] eats chicken that wasn’t froze properly, he could get sick.”

“I know, that, I—“

“DO YOU?”

BANG!

Is what I would have heard, on any other occasion. The familiar sound of a clenched fist hitting my mother. But not this time.

I smiled, still looking away.

“What the fuck, woman? Let go of me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not doing anything.”

“That fucking hurts! Let go of my wrist!”

“It’s not me!”

“You fucking-- AAAUGH!”

I smiled wider as I heard my mother dig the tip of her shoe into my father’s groin.

I heard my father clamor onto the floor. Felt the cool steel of a knife handle on my palm, the gentle resistance as my mother pulled it out of the wooden holder. “What are you doing?”

I heard my mother cry. “I don’t know! I DON’T KNOW!”

I felt light pressure on my shoulders as my mother held the knife over her head.

“Stop it! RIGHT NOW!”

I heard the knife clatter to the floor. My smile disappeared. I had lost control.

BANG! There it was. Like a gunshot, only wider, harder, worse.

I don’t know what happened. It’s like I lost her, inside her own brain. Someone else was tugging at her strings.

Like Manny, she was loyal to her abuser. She let him have her.

Not her fault, of course, which I’m just realizing now. Not anymore that it’s Stickabod’s fault he broke in half. I’ve been doing this mind control thing for a week. My dad’s been doing it, a version of it, for 18 years of marriage.

So maybe I couldn’t have her. But I could have him.

I turned around, catching my dad in the middle of swinging a second punch. Right before it landed, I opened his fist and rolled his hand backwards like a rug, breaking every finger into a hundred pieces.

“AAAAAAUUUGH!!!”

My dad fell back again. I could feel him holding a limp anemone hand, shattered fingers drooping in all directions like soggy sausages.

I made my mother sit behind him and gently put his head on her lap. Still crying.

“I’ll kill you, bitch. I’ll kill you.”

I felt my dad’s dusty hair and rough stubble as my mother wrapped her arms around his neck. And started twisting.

“[name redacted], it’s you isn’t it?” my mom cried, “Stop this. Please. I don’t want this. Please, please, stop.”

My instinct was to listen to my mom’s biologically soothing and commanding, but I remembered all the times she stopped the car. Why can’t she defend herself? Why can’t she defend me?

Someone has to.

I made her keep twisting. My dad was crying now, the pressure on his neck unbearable. His face almost level with his spine. One last tug should do it….

But then I saw it.

The outline of an invisible clawed hand, making a groove where it pressed down on my mother’s arm, forcing it to twist my father’s head.

I went deeper into my mom’s mind, felt everything she felt. Indeed, it felt like a rough, strong hand was forcing her arm. Another hand forcing the other. Six more hands keeping her in place.

I thought back to Manny, the skin of his face twisting and making unnatural expressions. His eyes darting around… as if someone else was moving it.

I thought about Stickabod, how he did a hand stand, something physics would suggest is impossible. Dancing…. As if someone was moving his limbs with their fingers.

Now my mom, not making a bit of effort. Rather, nine, no, ten inhuman hands moving her around.

I thought I was controlling the puppets. I wasn’t.

I was just telling the puppeteer what to do.

The puppeteer with too many fingers, too many hands.

The puppeteer with a mind of its own.

I let my mom go. She immediately let go of my dad’s head. My dad stood up, but immediately, the puppeteer got him.

You know when you crumple up a piece of paper, and it changes shape drastically in a matter of seconds?

That’s what happened to my dad.

He died instantly, his broken, crumpled up body rolling slightly across the kitchen floor. I was amazed that that man, as big as he seemed, could fit in such a small space.

My mom didn’t cry. Instead, she stood up. More than stood up. She went higher and higher on her feet and toes until the tip of the nail on her big toes barely touched the ground. She stared right at me.

Her eyes were still red and full of tears, but the love and good intention that characterized my mother’s eyes were gone. These eyes were all white, and full of evil.

“I told you. You are not in control”

It was her tone, her calm raspy vocalization, her strings moving inside her throat. But it was not. Her. Voice.

“These entities can try to eat me. I’ll just control them too.”

I sat there, twisting on the couch, paralyzed, recognizing with regret my snide reply to a comment on the last update.

“That’s what you said, isn’t it?”

She smiled widely. Like Manny’s, an unnatural smile, a sinister expression her face was not designed to make.

“Well, I’ve let you play around with me for long enough,” said the voice, calm, calculating, “Now I’m going to play around with you.”

It brought my mother’s hands up to her neck, made her form a ring with her hands around the base of her skull.

“You’re not in control…” said the thing that was my mother once. It tightened its grip.

“I AM.”

I saw my mother pull her own head upwards, hard, until it…

Well, I’d turned away at that point. I just heard two things falling on the kitchen floor. Her head, and then her body.

I’m getting ready to leave. I don’t know how to hide a body, let alone two. The police have already been poking around after Max’s death. And I don’t plan on being here when the neighbors notice the smell.

I have a backpack full of clothes, whatever money I found in my parents’ room, and my laptop, once I’m done writing this.

But even now, I’m having a hard time typing this. It’s like someone’s pulling on my fingers. At one point, my hand jerked upwards and smacked me in the face. I can still see the red handprint around my wrist.

I’ll update when I find an internet cafe or a public library or something.

I’ll keep you posted.

(I hope.)

Submitted June 11, 2018 at 10:31AM by darkprince6669 https://ift.tt/2JIOKqM