Her sweet boy.
Gently, Gloria rubbed Dandy's back as she held him close.
He looked so broken; shattered like the fine china he had taken a baseball bat to when he had been a boy, and Gloria did not know how to help. She had tried everything she could to please her precious Dandy. Gloria had given him everything he could ever ask for and it had never been enough.
She felt like such a bad mother. Other children adored their mothers and wore smiles on their faces and clung to their mothers in tight hugs and asked for goodnight kisses.
Dandy wanted none of that. He never had.
What made Dandy smile was the sight of fresh blood spilling. He did not seek comfort from her, rather the animals he would torture to death.
Gloria had done all that she could to help him. Finally, she had resorted to sending him to a psychiatrist but it had been to no avail. She didn't know what else to do. The woman was at an utter loss.
It was her fault, really. The whole Mott family had a history of inbreeding and she knew that it came with consequences. But she had been desperate. This fine, lavish life of riches and prosperity; she hadn't been ready to say goodbye to it. Marrying her second cousin was what she had to do.
That was what Gloria had always told herself. And things had been alright for a long while.
And then she had Dandy; an unplanned son.
"Your father was not my true love," Gloria said quietly to Dandy. "You were. From the moment you came out and looked at me with that furrowed brow." Lord how Dandy resembled his father; the same dark hair and flawless creamy skin and eyes that could hold so much life if he just let light into his soul. It was uncanny.
It was unnerving.
"I loved you, madness and all."
There was a pause and Gloria stopped rubbing Dandy's back. Slowly, the mother pulled away from her son, standing up.
"But I have no more love to give," she confessed somberly.
She had done all that she could yet he had continued to push her away. Gloria was done. She was done covering up his mistakes; done covering for him.
The woman went to her purse and opened it. She had to get rid of him. It broke her already fragile heart but it had to be done. This was all that was left for her to do. He was living a tortured life anyway. Gloria had never been a proper mother before but she could do this one thing for him. She could grant him this one mercy.
But the gun was not there. Hearing a faint click, Gloria quickly turned and saw Dandy with her small gun to his head, finger on the trigger. He was ready to shoot. A panic rose in her chest.
"Please Dandy," she begged softly. "I can't go on if you kill yourself."
And she couldn't let him do that. Gloria could not let her son kill himself. It was not a respectable way to go. He would only be bringing more disgrace upon the Mott family name. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if her name was tainted any further.
Dandy pulled the gun away from his head. "Okay," he replied and for a second, Gloria believed everything would be fine.
And then he raised the gun once more, the barrel pointing at her head instead of his. And he pulled the trigger.
Dandy had killed her without remorse, without regret; without hesitation.
Her sweet boy.