A/N: I am aware that this film does not yet have an official release date into general theaters as it is currently making the rounds on the film festival circuit. I am just dying to see this film, just as I'm sure most Glee/Kurt/Chris Colfer fans are. Spoilers on Tumblr and early reviews remark that Carson and Sheryl (his mom) have a troubled and dysfunctional relationship, that much is clear. With this fic, I am taking something already damaged and twisting it into something even darker and more messed up than it already is. I apologize for any triggers that this may cause…this fic came to me when I read spoilers for the film talking about how flawed and deeply human both of the characters (and their relationship) were and, being a movie buff, I immediately connected this sort of dynamic to the indie 1994 film "Spanking the Monkey". Think about it…a boozing, pill popping mother and a college bound, troubled son desperately trying to find a way to re-connect? Granted, I know that their actual relationship in the movie SBL is not this fucked up… this is just me taking something and turning it on its head. I mean no disrespect to the writer of the film (Chris Colfer) or to the characters that he created. I get the feeling that this young up and coming artist appreciates psychology and is fascinated by the dark side of human nature, just like me.

This is a summary of the SBL characters featured in this story for those of you who know nothing about the film. Carson Phillips (played by Chris Colfer) is a snarky, sarcastic, witty, intelligent, and angry 17 year old loner who wants nothing more than to get out of his small town and to pursue a career in journalism. He lives with his pathetic, depressed, seemingly emotionless mother (played by Allison Janney) who has turned to alcohol and pills as a way to cope with the disappointments of life, including a divorce from Carson's father, Neal. Carson and Sheryl need each other, yet they hate each other. Carson views his mom as an embarrassment and a burden who wants to trap him in their little town in order to take care of her, even though he's got bigger plans come hell or high water. Sheryl views Carson as an ungrateful, moody brat who didn't even fulfill his purpose to her in the first place (she only had him so she could keep her crumbling marriage from falling apart completely and it obviously didn't work). They do not like each other, yet, they are also a large and important part of each other's worlds…

Cupping the coffee mug with both hands and relishing in its warmth (because his circulation sucks), Carson stared out of the kitchen window. He liked these quiet mornings that he had all to himself. It became something of a ritual or a meditation practice: he would idly sip is coffee in peace and quiet as a way to calm his usually high strung, frustrated and angry self. To steel himself before stepping out into the world, he liked to sit and just daydream of a possible life that didn't so closely resemble purgatory. It was these kinds of things….imagination, ambition, and writing….that made him grit his teeth and keep on going despite feeling trapped in a mess of a life that didn't seem to be of his own creation. Also, if he is lucky, he won't have to deal with his mother and he will be able to go about his business for the rest of the day with nothing to previously cloud his disposition. A motherless morning is his good luck charm to a decent day, as he sees it. That is the one thing he can say he benefits from due to her drunkenness, her medications and her general fatigue…in general, she sleeps like a log and is hardly ever up before noon….never mind being up before Carson's 6 AM wake up call. It hardly ever happens.

"Carson?"

Oh, god. Shit!

Carson sneered and set his coffee cup down on the counter in a haste as her voice sounded from down the hall. Amazingly, she had rejoined the land of the living at a normal hour.

It's going to be one of those days…

Sheryl Phillips, in all her rumpled zombie bride glory, shuffled into the kitchen just as he was making his way over to the front door. She, maybe subconsciously, blocked his path of escape. Carson almost felt guilty for wanting to run from her in the first place. She appeared to be a caricature of sorts…tousled, frizzy hair, sad and dull looking eyes, a housecoat thrown over her baggy pajamas, thin arms crossed over her torso as she folded in on herself where she stood. Her posture really was atrocious. Everything about her just seemed to droop…if she was a tree, she'd be a weeping willow. He felt pity and contempt for this woman…this hag. Really, he could almost bring himself to laugh at how closely his mother resembled roadkill if it wasn't so true and painful to watch. He can't believe he came out of a woman like this!

"Yes?" He asked her carefully and then, adding as an afterthought "You look like shit, by the way."

"Watch your mouth." She sighed wearily, her scolding having little bite to it. Then, she looked at him with the most pathetic expression, her sad looking bloodhound-esque eyes attempting to pierce his very soul: "Where are you going?"

Carson smiled bitterly. This was a game that he and his mother played often. She would pretend to be helpless and sad….although she really was those things, she used it to her advantage in order to manipulate him and tug on his heart strings. Once in a while, he'd let her win. Most of the time, though, he'd just arm himself with sarcasm, anger and wit and would be able to resist her pull (he saw her not as a magnet, but more like a black hole determined to suck in and crush everything in its orbit). Carson guessed that if she could keep him around in order to take care of her until the day she died, she would. And that makes him angry because he has bigger plans than that. So, he decides to go the sarcasm route, rather than letting her guilt him into staying with her and wasting his day.

"I'm going to Munich. I'll be back by supper."

He has to bite back a self-satisfied smirk at his answer in order to maintain a straight face. Before the monotonous way of life in Hellhole, California strangles them of their dreams and traps them into staying there forever (much like quicksand), the youth of the town often talk amongst themselves about taking a road trip to New York City or Los Angeles or hell, even Huston. Carson is proud of himself for thinking of a different kind of city (in Germany, no less!) in an improvisational situation. It shows that he has more going on between his ears than most of his peers. Plus, it just struck him as a clever, scholarly way of saying 'None of your fucking business, Rags.'

Sheryl sighed again, her thin shoulders slumping in exasperation. He really wished she would stop sighing so damned much…he was scared she would pass out from lack of oxygen.

"You're not much of a son, you know. You're kind of a disappointment on so many levels. The way you talk to me? The way you treat me? Where do you get off on acting like this? If your father could see how you behave, I think he would be as disgusted as I am right now. What did I do to screw you up so badly, huh? Why are you so hateful? I swear, I should have had that abortion in the early 90's…"

Ah, the old standby abortion comment. It didn't even bother Carson anymore, honestly. If anything, he wished she would think of something new and original to say after all these years…

"Yes, you should have." He remarked sharply, cutting her off in mid rant. "And you are not much of a mother! I wouldn't be getting all preachy and high and mighty if I were you. You have no right to talk about me. I'm an excellent student, I've been taking care of you for years, I help you take care of grandma…I'd say I've replaced dad in a sense. Sure, I hate you…but I'm sure the feeling is mutual. Seriously, all you do are pills and booze—"

Sheryl hefted a stinging slap across Carson's face before he could continue. For such a slight woman, she really had a hell of a blow. Instantly, though, she regretted this action.

Carson, on the other hand, welcomed the slap. It was okay. Really. He hadn't finished his coffee and this was just the thing he needed to help him wake up.

But seriously, this was nothing new. He had gotten into this sort of trouble plenty of times with her over his 'smart mouth' throughout his childhood. He was used to this…he kind of expected it. It did nothing to deter him away from his self-righteous (and possibly warranted) rage. He hit the nail on the head with his mentions of her addictions, and she lashed out when the truth hit too close to home. The truth hurt, much like the way his cheek was stinging and throbbing right now.

His mother blinked, hesitant and apologetic. "Carson…"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, yes?" Carson ignored her, his blue-grey eyes narrowing and drilling into hers, challenging her. He stood his ground.

"What?" Sheryl was confused.

"About you not being the ideal mother. You know what I am referring to, don't you?" Carson pressed on. A voice in the back of his mind told him to be careful; that he was skating on thin ice both for her and as well for himself. The voice warned him of uncovering hidden truths that could possibly shatter them both, but Carson didn't care. He felt like fighting back today.

Sheryl's eyes widened a fraction of an inch at the question. He could be referring to multiple things. The harsh and somewhat loveless way she raised him, the drinking, the medications….hell, even she knew that she wasn't the perfect mother.

"Think through the permanent haze that has settled in that brain of yours." Carson hissed, urging her on.

Sheryl frowned at the insult, frustrated and shaken. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Carson continued to stare at her. He remembered it all too well, unfortunately. It started when he was 14 and had first began to crystalize his dreams of a career in journalism and his plans to escape his cow town and her by going to Northwestern University after graduation. Out of the blue, it happened one night. Carson remembered it so disgustingly clearly, that it made him want to tear out his hair in shame…

Carson recalled his foggy brained confusion at his mother stumbling into his bedroom that night. He could remember the stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke wafting off of her even stronger than usual, seeping into his nostrils and making him want to gag. He remembered his half awake protests and total WTF feelings as she slid into bed with him. Even then, they hated each other so why on earth would she want to share a bed with him?

At first, Carson had thought that she had gotten into his bed by mistake, drunkenly thinking that it was her own. When he asked her what she was doing and if she was lost, he got nothing out of her but incoherent mumbling, her eyes shining oddly in the moonlight seeping through his window blinds. Sighing in frustration, the boy closed his eyes and slammed his head back down on his pillow. He lay there for a few seconds , attempting to wake himself up fully so that he could take her back to her own room.

So, she was so out of it that she couldn't talk. Nothing new there. But her body had done the talking for her. Her actions in this moment would forever change his life. She had started touching him, teasing him. Carson's eyes had snapped open and his brain felt as if it was plunged into a bucket of ice water as he felt her hand slip underneath his pajama bottoms…

The boy had felt the air leave his lungs in an audible whoosh. To his complete embarrassment, shame, guilt and total disgust, he felt his body reacting to her touches. He wondered if never having had sexual experiences with another human being up until that point made him react to her so…willingly. As he lay there stiff, unmoving and uncharacteristically meek, a million thoughts were whirling through his mind at that moment. Was this really happening or was this just some nightmarish, twisted wet dream he was having? More importantly, what the fuck was she thinking? Had she finally snapped? Did she completely lose her mind to substance abuse (and this served as incentive for him to never try drugs or alcohol, not even the tamer substances)? Was she even aware of what she was doing? Was she sleepwalking? Was she too out of it to know that this was her son and not her long lost husband, Neal? The possibilities were endless, and it gave him a headache.

But what was his excuse? None. He just lay there that night. He let her excite him. He let her pull down his pajama bottoms and get on top of him. Carson vividly remembers his younger self biting his lip as she sank down on him, trying desperately to stop his body and his vocal chords from betraying him. The sound he had made was a choked half moan, half sob…born equally from pleasure and humiliation. He remembered gripping the bedsheets like a lifeline as she rocked….

Even at 14, Carson was a very level headed person. The most rational and detached part of his brain reasoned that he would need some intense therapy after this experience. However, denial had won out in the end. Still thinking (and hoping) it had been a weird wet dream of some kind, he had walked to school that following morning and acted as if nothing had happened. Therapy meant that he would have to talk about it, and talking about it would mean admitting that it had happened. He would rather take this secret to his grave.

Carson envied his mother for her various excuses for ignorance…the alcohol, the pills, the possible mental illness, and so on. Carson didn't have any of that. He didn't have an excuse like she did. He was sober, clear minded, rational and highly intelligent. He supposed he had let it happen because…because he had felt closer to her and loved by her in that moment…more so than in any other time in his life. This weird connection that this sick relationship gave them was something that Carson would never, ever admit to wanting under any other circumstance. He was a tough kid, an independent kid, a kid who grew up way before his time. And yet…this secret of theirs continued throughout the years with Sheryl remaining unaware of her actions and Carson being silent about the situation. Well….he didn't know if she was actually unaware. There must've been some small part of her brain that knew what she was doing, right? He couldn't very well bring up the topic and ask her about it during dinner ("Hey, mom…remember when you fucked me last night?") so he just kept quiet. He didn't want to know, really. The answer might fuck him up even more. What if she knew and she didn't care?

Over the next three years, this became a regular occurrence at the Phillips' household. Carson felt so fucking confused about the situation. He hated it, but a part of him must've loved it too…or why would he let this continue? He didn't put a lock on his door. He never, ever initiated it but he didn't fight her off either. He was just her passive partner in crime. And maybe, in a strange way, he thought he was helping her. Giving her that 'love' and a sense of openness that he felt he couldn't give her any other time (because he just hated her too much for various reasons). It was during their intimate moments together when the icy walls between mother and son appeared to melt for the first time. Carson liked that feeling.

Carson didn't keep track. He didn't carve notches into his bedpost, but this…thing with his mother happened often over the next few years. Not every night but, if he had to guess, maybe…every few months, or several times a year? Always with varying degrees of drunkenness from Sheryl. Carson, however, was stone cold sober each and every time. In fact, the most recent incident happened roughly a month ago. He had long ago decided that, if she was aware of her actions, then they must've come to some sort of silent agreement. A sort of deal that states "I hate you, you hate me…but let's use each other like this, okay? We both need this. No one has the right to call anyone out on this, because we are equally fucked up and guilty in this thing…"

He was torn. He wanted her to stop, yet he didn't. But he thanks whatever higher power exists because, over the duration of this whole ordeal, there have never been any little ones with webbed feet running around the house. It grosses him out to even think about. He doesn't even know if she has gone through menopause yet, or if she has accidentally sterilized herself with all of the substance abuse…but she has never gotten pregnant. He didn't want another innocent soul to be brought into his extremely dysfunctional situation. And perhaps God just didn't want a Phillips' Squared little monster roaming the streets. A pregnancy would have brought everything crashing down…it would have made things frighteningly real for him, instead of the hazy, twisted dreams he sometimes convinces himself that are taking place instead.

Back in the present moment, Carson glared at his mother as they were having their stand off in the kitchen. He was angry, but he was also all nerves…he was scared as hell and trying to keep from shaking. Either today will be the day that the elephant in the room is addressed. Their cover will be blown. The events that took place will no longer be swept under the rug . The secrets that she could not quite recall and that he knew vividly would be brought to light or….

Or not. Carson peered at her hard, his steely blue-green eyes boring into her brown ones. He could not uncover one flicker of recognition in her eyes. Not of something that dark, anyway. All he saw was startled confusion and there is no way she could have been that good of an actress. It was safe to say that, even though she had come to his bedroom night after night to do that with him, that she did not remember it. Carson wondered how it was possible to repress something that much and if she would let him in on her secret.

After what seemed like an endless silence, Sheryl blinked away unshed tears.

"I'm…sorry if I haven't been the best mother, Carson…"

Carson huffed out a bitter, humorless laugh at her statement.

"Can I go now?"

He didn't wait for her permission. He brushed past her and walked out the front door, slamming it shut. He jogged over to his car in the driveway, his heart pounding, his head hammering, and his mind whirling with so many different thoughts at once.

Yes, I am a bastard of a son. But excuse me. I think I am doing pretty damned well under the circumstances, all right? We can't all afford to be clueless like you….

He got into his car and leaned his head on the steering wheel for a moment as he tried to get his breathing under control.

He needed a game plan. He figured that this weird relationship he had with his mother would all be over in a few months, after graduation and after he heads off to university that same summer. There. Problem solved.

Carson pulled out onto the street. He figured he would go for an aimless drive around town in order to calm himself down. After that, he wasn't sure what he would do. Head to the library, perhaps? The library always served as a refuge for him whenever he was upset. Or maybe he'd head over to the house of his one and only friend, Malerie?

The thoughts and feelings concerning his mother resurfaced as he drove, however. It made him grit his teeth. If she really was clueless about the whole situation, then he was the one at fault. He was the sober one, after all. And he was 17 now…he wasn't a baby. He could've stopped it anytime he wanted to….or at least fought her off or something. He hated himself for letting it continue. In a way, he was relieved that she hadn't figured it out after all. What if it made her try to commit suicide? What if she blamed him? What if she came to realize she wasn't the only sick and dysfunctional one in the family?

He was conflicted. Should he spare her or shouldn't he? Why should this thing be his cross to bear when it took the two of them to carry on this relationship as if it's totally normal? He chewed his bottom lip in thought.

What would be the point of plucking up his courage and telling her in that kitchen? She wouldn't have remembered the conversation by nighttime, anyway. She would have put the disturbing thought out of her mind with an extra helping of her drinks and her pills….possibly leading to an overdose. He knows how she deals with things.

Being a budding journalist, Carson debates if he should tell her in writing, since it is just too damned difficult and embarrassing to talk about aloud. He considered the possibility of writing her an email, sending her a letter after he went away for college, or even just writing it down in a notebook and letting her find it on her own. If he did tell her, it would have to be after he left for college. God forbid if Sheryl should let this little tidbit slip during a drunken night at the bar. It would be all over town by sunrise. His peers already think he's a freak, and this would just prove their theory right.

But what about her? Carson knew he would be gone from this shithole town in just a few months. His mom would be stuck here. If she ever let this information get out, it could destroy her. She was already the laughingstock within several social circles in town….but if this ever got out, she would be vilified by all citizens, including his father/her ex-husband. Carson felt just as guilty and responsible for this mess, and it didn't seem right to leave her holding the bag all alone. She would get all sorts of flak for this while he was gone…flack that he felt he deserved just as much as she did. If she were to let this get out and if anyone were to ever believe her, it would all be over for her. His town did not accept very many forms of deviance from the norm, which is why his peers gave him such a hard time at school. He couldn't do that to her.

She is the town drunk and a pill popper. Perhaps no one would believe her if she told anyone…

In the end, Carson didn't think it would be right. If you love someone, you don't do that to them. Even if you hate them.

THE END

A/N: The final line is a quote from the classic 1960 horror film, "Psycho". Please review, whether you liked it or did not. But no flames, please (constructive criticism is just fine though). And don't let this story scare you away from what will probably be an amazing movie. This incestuous relationship does NOT actually exist in the film! Also, I'm sorry if this is a tad overwritten! I've been suffering from writer's block lately, and when I started writing this story I just couldn't stop!