A/N I had no planning with this story whatsoever, and I actually finished it! O, wow, I'm proud of myself, Misty, the procrastinator. I was surfing YouTube, and this song played. I put it on repeat, and typed this. It's so terrible. Watch as the writing quality slowly decreases… Without further ado, Useless Child.
Mama gives good hugs. The kind that wraps you up and makes you forget everything else, all the bad things, in the world. I think Papa used to give hugs like that too, but I don't know for sure. He's been gone for a long time.
Most of the time, I don't miss him. I've been wondering why lately.
"It's your fault Papa's gone," Mama says happily, with a wide smile on her face as she cooks dinner. "It's all your fault, because you're such a useless child~! A lonely, bad, good-for-nothing kid~!"
"Y-yes M-m-mama."
I believe her. She's so honest, and so kind to me. I think she's the nicest person in the world. She gives good hugs. The kind that wraps you up and makes you forget all the violence in the world. I think Sister used to give hugs like that, but I don't know for sure. She's been gone for a long time.
I don't miss her. Lately, I've been wondering why.
"You do know that it's your fault Sister is gone," Mama says cheerfully as she pulls up the flowers from the weedy garden. "Because you're a monster! A horrible, ugly, and useless monster~! You should be glad that they didn't kill you. You'd be dead if it weren't for me~!"
"Y-yes M-mama."
Sometime I wonder who 'they' are. But I don't wonder for long, because Mama gives good hugs. The kind that wraps you up and makes you forget all the viciousness of the world. I love those hugs.
"Remember, you're the most useless child in the world~!" Her smile is full of pleasure when she says those words. "Lonely, dirty, unethical, obnoxious, crooked and useless!"
"Y-yes Mama."
I am a useless child. Mama says so. I believe her, because she loves me. I know she loves me. She has to love me. She's my Mama. I'm her child. She gives good hugs.
I am a useless child.
I've learned to write those words. The walls of our small house are covered over with my writing. In pencil, in pen, in crayon, in paint. Mama likes it when I whisper the phrase to myself.
"I am a useless child."
I ran out of space to write it in the house. Now I print it carefully on my own skin. On my arms, on my legs, on my hands, on my feet.
I am a useless child. Such a useless child.
Mama gives good hugs. Good, tight ones. Hugs that block out the terrors of the world. I can't breathe when she hugs me. I don't mind, though.
One day, she decided I was worthless at speaking. So I stopped talking. The next day, she decided I was worthless at studies. I stopped going to school. The day after, she decided I was worthless at exercise. I stopped going outside.
"You are useless," she says in her melodic, musical voice. "You good-for-nothing useless kid~! Everything is your fault! You're a bad child~!"
Yes Mama.
I know.
'Useless child.'
It's written on my chest and back. I wrote it on my face, across my cheeks and forehead. I like the feeling of the cold pen tip against my skin. I want to push it deeper, and make bigger marks. Bigger marks don't go away. Papa and Sister went away. Because of me.
"You're an evil child," Mama says cheerfully. "You taint everything you touch~!"
I must be like the ink in the pen then. My skin burns, but Mama makes the pain go away with her hugs. Those wonderful hugs.
"You're a disgrace~!" she exclaims.
My lungs hurt.
"You're not even human, you lowly beast~!"
My head hurts.
"You're a distorted freak~!"
My heart hurts.
"You're a useless child, and don't you forget it!"
Yes Mama.
She gives good hugs. I forgot to breathe.
Yes, I am a useless child….
Useless at life, at living.
But I still love Mama.
I wonder if she loves me.
