The Burial

Norma threw the heavy shovel on the ground and immediately plopped down on the hard earth.

"This needs to stop, Norman," she said. She laid her head upon the balled up sweater that she had shed earlier, due to the miserable heat of physical exertion brought upon by digging this God-forsaken hole; and in November, no less, when the soil was hardened by the chilly weather.

"We could have just dumped him in the…" Norman began, kneeling to sit beside her.

"Yes, and look how well that worked out for us last time! They found that body within the month!" Norma exclaimed angrily, and threw her hands up. "God! You just never think, do you? That's what got us into this mess." She covered her eyes with one arm and turned away from him.

"I'm so sorry, Mother! I – I ...I told you it was an accident. It j-just sort of… one minute he was standing there and the next… I just don't know what came over me! Please, please look at me!" Norman cried out, barely resisting the urge to shake her.

Norma remained silent. Norman sagged with the weight of her refusal.

"Mother, please…" he begged. He just did not know what he would do if she did not forgive him. What would he do? Just what would he do?

The minutes ticked by.

The moment he thought he could not bear the silence any longer, he heard her softly clear her throat.

"I will forgive you, Norman," Norma began, "But only on one condition."

"You know I'd do anything for you. Anything!"

"I want you to get rid of Dylan."

"W-What? What do you mean?"

"I think you know. Within the month, please. God, he is just so… so…" she trailed off, struggling to find a foul enough word.

"He's your son!" Norman exclaimed.

At this, Norma finally uncovered her eyes and sat up to look at him. She rotated her body so that she was facing him, and she brought one hand to his face with great care. His cheeks were flushed pink, but whether that was from the cold, the physical exertion, or from thoughts of killing again, she did not know.

Norman instinctively leaned into his mother's warm hand, seeking reassurance.

"You are my son, Norman. Only you. Dylan is no son to me. He's not even a real man. He is a malignant tumor that formed inside my womb, against my own will! And then the disease had the nerve to sprout legs… Norman, can't you see that?" Norma said. She became visibly upset and began to weep. She wiped pathetically at the corners of her eyes.

"Mother," Norman said softly, reaching for her hands.

"Don't you care about me at all, Norman? Doesn't anybody care about me?" she asked him miserably.

"Of course I do. You are everything to me. You're my other half!"

Norma genuinely smiled at him and sniffed away her tears. "Oh, Norman. Then you'll take care of it? You'll take care of me?"

"If it's what you really want, how could I ever say no?"

"That's my good boy."

Norma leaned in and kissed her son on both cheeks. Norman felt immensely delighted to have pleased her. They both stood then, hand in hand, and began walking back to the car which they had rented for this special excursion.

"What do you think about chicken for dinner?" Norma asked.

"I think that sounds wonderful, mother."


Here's my second Bates Motel short drabble! A little longer than the last one, at least. Please review and let me know what you think! There aren't enough Bates stories, amirite?