He wakes to laughter.
The kind of laughter that can bring a dying man back from the brink of death. Lighthearted and airy. Breathtaking in every way, shape and form. He hasn't heard that laughter in a long time. Laughter has been absent in Sho's household for a long time. For almost far too long. Laughter manages to pull him out from beneath the stained duvet on top of the couch, urges him to descend the staircase.
The laughter continues his entire way downstairs.
The electricity is out again. Probably because Daddy is yet to properly pay for the bill. This is the fourth time in the past six months. But Sho doesn't mind it. He's lived most of his life in darkness anyhow. The dark doesn't frighten him. After all, it's easier to hide from the monsters in the dark.
Lightning strikes outside, illuminating the downstairs and lower portion of the staircase. For a split second there are shadows cast along the walls. Silhouettes of Mommy and Daddy who are somewhere in the kitchen.
Everything is becoming louder. The source of the laughter must be Mommy whose head is thrown back, the shrill sound escaping from between her chapped lips. He can see her as he creeps down another step, peering around the bannister. He's small for his age. Mommy doesn't seem to notice him. He wonders if it's the medicine again. She left yesterday to go get more.
He hasn't heard Mommy laugh in a long time too. It's frightening almost, to hear Mommy's beautiful laughter. She used to laugh when he was littler. When she had taken her medicine and everything he did was funny.
"You'll see, Sho! You're gonna be momma's little comedian one day," she would say after her laughter was on the verge of becoming sobs. She would wipe tears from her eyes and smile just a little bit wider than normal and then she would go to sleep until morning. He always hated the mornings. That's when Mommy wasn't always as nice.
What was so good about becoming a comedian anyways? He never really understood. He always thought that it might be better to become an officer for the WPCB or maybe to program technology. Daddy's daddy used to do that. But whenever he mentions it, Daddy shouts and that's when he scurries into the dark, waiting until he's been long forgot and life can continue on as it normally does.
Mommy's laughter cuts off abruptly. He peers into the minimal lighting offered by the streetlamps outside. The kitchen smells bad. Like the rust in the basement. Coppery and sickly and it forces him to pull his shirt up over his nose. The kitchen also looks very, very messy. He remembers that a long time ago when he was littler, Mommy used to paint in the kitchen, her easel set up in the middle of the room. She would paint the bowl of rotting fruit on the counter or the sunset or the city skyline. Mommy must have started painting again.
Everything in the kitchen is red.
Her hands. Her clothes. The floor. The wall behind Daddy. Even Daddy is covered in the red. But it darkens at his throat, at parts of his shirt. Lightning strikes. He can see that Mommy's holding Daddy's razor so tightly they're cutting her hands and with a final laugh, she drives the blade into Daddy's abdomen. A wet sound catches in his throat. His eyes bulge out for a moment and then he slumps forward.
Mommy wipes her hands off on the front of her dress. Her long, white hair is red now too and it takes only a moment for him to realize very quickly that that isn't paint all over Mommy and Daddy. It's blood. And when Mommy places the razor back down onto the counter and turns her attention to the stairway, Sho hides behind the banister. He holds his breath and remains still.
"Sho?" Mommy calls from the kitchen, her voice suddenly soft.
She attempts to call him three times.
"Sho come downstairs for a minute, okay?"
A minute later.
"I have something for you! It's a surprise."
Thirty seconds later.
"Sho?"
Ten.
"SHOGO GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
He doesn't dare move a muscle.
He can hear the floorboards creaking underneath her. Mommy's footfalls are heavier than usual. She steps past the threshold, slowly making her way toward the staircase. He doesn't have much time. In fact, he doesn't have time at all. He takes a small hiccup of a breath and runs. Up the stairs, minding his footing, making certain not to stumble the way Mommy does as she chases after him. He throws a glance over his shoulder and yelps at the sight of her, the sockets of her eyes hollow, blood flecked all over her porcelain skin.
She looks like a monster.
He continues running.
The hallway branches off in two directions, one leading to Mommy and Daddy's room, the other to the attic—to where Sho likes to spend his nights even though Mommy and Daddy took the liberty of setting up a blanket on the floor for him. He isn't allowed to sleep on the bed. He learnt that the hard way three years ago and there's still a scar on his right hip from the event. On a whim Sho decides that he wants to take his chances with the attic. That's his home. He knows it better than Mommy or Daddy or anyone does.
He reaches the attic fast enough to see Mommy has returned downstairs. He doesn't know why. He doesn't care because exactly fifteen seconds later she's coming back up, something glinting silver in her hand. He counts the amount of footfalls it takes for him to reach the attic (twenty). It takes seven breaths for him to squeeze his way underneath the faulty bit of floorboard. One second for him to see Mommy enter the attic dressed solely in his father's blood.
There's loud noises outside, close to the house. Sho doesn't know if he wants to attempt to attract attention in order to save himself or if he wants to hide here and wait and see if Mommy will give up. She's always liked hide and seek. She's always won too.
"Sho…" she hums his name softly.
He bites down on his lip hard enough to coat his tongue with blood. He hates the taste. He forces himself to endure.
"I know you're hiding, Sho…" Mommy continues. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."
But he won't come out. As long as there's air in his lungs and thoughts in his head he won't run. The noises outside are louder. If he strains hard enough he can hear people's voices outside shouting at each other, barking orders while a mechanic voice instructs the neighbors to remain calm.
"This is a message from the Public Safety Bureau. We urge you to remain indoors until otherwise instructed. Please remain calm. This is a message from the Public Safety Bureau…" the voice chirps before repeating over and over again.
Beyond that a man shouts, "We've got one Renegade in there. Looks like a couple of Dosers have been keeping—"
"Dosers, sir?"
"Regular citizens like you and me who take their prescriptions and like to trade 'em with each other. See what gets them a high and what doesn't. Looks like we've gotta pair of 'em hiding inside. Scanners picked up a high Psycho-pass reading but they both escaped before they could receive treatment…"
And then the words trail off.
Mommy walks to the far end of the attic. She throws the duvet off the couch. Tsubaki—Sho's only stuffy, a green frog—goes soaring through the air with it. Mommy's attention turns to Tsubaki. She takes two steps toward the toy, pressing the ball of her foot deep into its head. One of Tsubaki's eyes pokes out at an odd angle. A pang of hurt fills Sho's chest.
Downstairs someone bangs on the door.
The house shakes at its foundation.
"…Multiple readings…" Someone outside shouts.
"…Thought there were only two of 'em in here?"
"Oh no," Mommy whispers just as the downstairs door is thrown open. Sho can hear it slam into the wall. Hear the sound of at least three different people run into the house. Someone is coming up the stairs—he can tell by the way the floor groans beneath them. Mommy has gone still. She steps away from Tsubaki.
Sho lets out the smallest of whimpers.
Mommy doesn't even seem to care.
"You made a real mess of things down there," a man says from the doorway but Sho can't see him. All he can see is Mommy whose eyes are wide. Her lips part but she has nothing to say.
"And would you look at that! Crime coefficient over three-hundred. That's quite the feat, Miss Makishima." Something mechanical clicks into place where Sho can't see it. He braces himself.
"M-my boy…" Mommy says.
"Boy?"
"Don't hurt him."
"Sure thing, Missy," the man says. "Best close your eyes."
And that's when Sho sees the light. Almost blue in color and blinding. The light goes directly toward Mommy—cuts through her—and that's when he sees that Mommy isn't there anymore. What's left of her is blood. More of it. Lots of it. Bits of bone and chunks of meat left scattered along the attic. A stream of scarlet flows steadily down between the floorboards. And drop…drop…drop tap Sho's forehead.
He struggles beneath the floorboard. Pressing up on it but it won't even budge. He's trapped. His breathing speeds up. His heartbeat becomes elevated.
"Let me out!" Sho cries over and over again until the man hears him and comes running, peeling back the floorboard like it's nothing. Sho isn't sure if he wants to hug the brunette man or throw up all over him. At the sight of something grey scattered around the floor alongside bits of ivory hair, he does both.
The man doesn't seem to mind it.
The man just holds him until the tears come.
"A miracle," someone whispers when the man carries him out of the building and toward one of the nearby vehicles.
"Gonna need therapy," someone else whispers. "Don't know how his coefficient is only eighty-seven."
None of it matters. In the middle of the night, Sho takes in gulps of fresh air. The rain falls over his face, washing away the steady build-up of grime that's coated his flesh over the years. His stomach grumbles and someone promises to get him food at their earliest convenience.
For the very first time, Sho feels safe.