Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Breathless

Episode Date: July 9, 2021

🎉 Get access to new ad-free episodes and my exclusive bonus episodes HERE: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep Author: P.F. McGrail P. F. McGrail’s Book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08M8YR7N5 P. F. McGrail’s Subreddit: www.reddit.com/r/ByfelsDisciple 🔔 Dr. NoSleep YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep 🎽 Dr. NoSleep Merchandise: teespring.com/stores/dr-nosleep-merch ✅ Advertising Inquiries: [e-mail] DISCLAIMER: This story is R rated for adults 18 years or older. NOT for children. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/drnosleep/support Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Talk to nicely. Hey, everyone, I want to take a quick second to remind you all to click that follow button if you're listening on Spotify. This way you'll get notified every time a new episode is released. Now back to the story. Just shut the fuck up, Danny. Shut the fuck up. That screen finally got through to him. The begging, threatening, explaining, and pleading would not stop my son from bouncing off the walls.

Only the shouting was effective. Only the swearing worked. My six-year-old son looked up at me as the broken pieces of my Nikon P-1. 1,000 camera lay scattered at his feet, frozen in place. A chill stabbed my gut as I realized that he was afraid of me. The chill sunk deeper when I realized that a small part of me was grateful for his fear. I wiped a tear from my face. I'm going outside. Watch your brother. Daddy, I... Take care of your brother. I hissed while pulling on my shoes. I'll be right outside. I slammed the door because that's what people do when words run out before anger does.

I knew that leaving a six-year-old boy in charge of a three-year-old boy is a stupid thing to do. But Arthur Park is a half a block from our apartment, and I needed to remove myself before I lost control entirely. I collapsed on a bench and heaved. The sun was shining. Kids were laughing, and I wanted to smack them for being happy. I closed my eyes and faced the sky. You look like shit. I didn't know who was speaking, but it didn't matter. You try raising two out-of-control boys after their mother dies and get back to me on whether you care about looking like. like shit. I felt him sit next to me. I opened my eyes. He wore a gray trench coat despite the heat, looking like he was either getting ready to sell me a stolen wristwatch or expose himself. Do you love them? I stared at the man. He was old. At least 80. He didn't wear it well.

His ice blue eyes sunk deep into sallow rice paper skin. Of course I love my kids. I shook my head. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Fuck! Amanda was the best woman on earth. Not the hottest, not the richest, just the best. I never doubted fatherhood, because I never doubted her. I forcibly controlled my breathing. One thing goes wrong, and suddenly there's a lifetime to deal with the consequences. I nodded. I love them, which is why it scares the shit out of me when I have thoughts of...

I froze. He waited expectantly. I shook my head again. I've always thought of myself as a good man. I never understood the pieces of shit who... I pulled my hair. For five hours. this morning. Five hours. Danny would not stop. He hit his brother. He hit me. He screamed at us both.

And he broke a $1,913 camera that was one of the only joys I had left in my life. As pathetic as that sounds, my breath hitched. That's why I can't even own anything made of glass. I finally snapped. I screamed at him, swore, too. And only scaring my son finally got through to him. When it happened, I thought this made sense, I chuckled. And now here I am. The biggest piece of shit on earth, unloading my life story to a stranger in the park, since I'm less of a danger to my children when I'm away from them. I looked back up at the sky. Enough about me. What part of your world did you stop believing in today? He pulled a gadget from inside his coat. It looked like a small remote control with just two buttons on it. The man extended his hand to me, making creepy

eye contact as he waited for my reaction. The top one's for Danny. The bottom is for Kevin. I wanted to puke as the weight if it fell into my hands, my eyes drawn down toward it. How did you, you know their name? I looked up. He was gone. The slow creep of panic flowed into the far corners of my body as I hurried home. How could I have left my kids alone? Would they be taken away from me if one had gotten hurt? I was sprinting by the time I reached my apartment door and wasted no time in flinging it open to find. Danny and Kevin were sitting quietly on the living room floor, picking up the pieces of my broken camera. I shut the door behind me as a witch's brew of emotion flooded through my head. Relief battled with the nagging thought

that my children only calmed down when I was gone. I wondered if my boys would be happier with someone else, and the thought nearly tore me apart from the inside. I'm sorry, I broke your camera, Daddy, and I'm going to... Danny's voice would cut off by Kevin screaming loud enough to peel the paint from my walls. I covered my ears and looked down to see him lying on the floor, kicking his legs into the air.

A broken shard of camera plastic lay near his bare foot. I had left a stabbing hazard in my home for my children to walk across. I clenched my fists in frustration while. pressing my hands close against my ears, accidentally squeezing the remote control in the process. Sudden silence. I stared at Kevin in confusion. His eyes rolled wildly around while his trembling lips struggled to scream, but he couldn't make a sound. His lips just looked slightly bluish. That's when I realized that his chest wasn't moving. Kevin! I dove to the ground, trying to pull the ancient CPR training from the depths of a reeling mind. It's hard to think straight when your

world will end if you can't think straight. I lifted my son's paralyzed body, and then he screamed. He gasped desperately for deprived air, and the noise that attacked my eardrums might have been the most wonderful I've ever heard. I hugged him tight and slipped him remote into my pocket for safekeeping. Both Kevin and Danny became quiet for 15 uninterrupted minutes afterwards. I used the sudden reprieve to race through some financial paperwork, since I didn't know when my next opportunity would be. That's how I found the $1,000. I assumed that it had to be a mistake until I read the memo that appears next to every transaction on the website. Payment for one press of the button. It didn't make sense, but nothing that happened in the past hour seemed real.

How did he know that I'd press the button? Moreover, how the actual fuck did a remote control cut off a person's air supply for 20 seconds? And why would anyone pay me to choke my son? When I first held Danny in my hands, it was the realest, surreal moment of my life. Amanda and I had created a tiny human that was completely dependent on us for every aspect of his existence. In one short moment, he had completely taken my breath away. I didn't know how it was possible, but I accepted it just the same. I held it together through the tantrum that Danny threw after hearing that it was bedtime, but after he finally passed out, I collapsed on my own bed and cried. I grabbed a picture of me and Amanda that I keep on my nightstand. It's face down

most of the time, because it hurts too much to see her smile, but I hug it in my weakest moments. I'm sorry, babe, I whispered. I want to be the best dad possible. But most days I have to settle for least awful. I slipped in remote control into the nightstand's drawer and tried fruitlessly to get some sleep. Breakfast was blissfully quiet. Danny helped Kevin to pour a second bowl of Cheerios.

They said, Thank you, and you're welcome. I loved them more than anything on earth. Kevin reached to hug Danny and bumped his older brother's Nintendo Switch onto the ground. It cracked. Danny screamed. Then he leapt to his feet to get better leverage as he punched Kevin in the arm.

Kevin shrieked loud enough to send physical pain bouncing between my ears. Our entire morning collapsed in four seconds. I had to pry Danny away from his brother and carry him to his room, kicking and screaming. But as soon as I released him, he sprinted back to the kitchen. I chased after him to see Danny pick up his destroyed switch and sob. That was the first time I saw Kevin punch anyone. He slugged Danny in the shoulder, clearly still angry about being hit. He'd learned from his brother. I froze, simply because I was completely unable to conceptualize my next move.

My world was filled with noise and nothing else. Then Danny tackled Kevin. I felt like the worst father on earth. There simply wasn't any possible way to express my anger sufficiently, but I somehow had to swallow it all and police their fight. On top of everything, I had to teach them a lesson powerful enough to stop this from happening again. My finger slipped into the pocket of my bathrobe. I don't remember deciding to push the buttons, but I clearly didn't did so with enough intent to hit both simultaneously. Danny and Kevin let go of each other and grabbed their throats as heavenly silence descended upon the kitchen. I waited. Then I dove to the ground and held them both close, rocking back and forth as they gasped for air that wouldn't come. Kevin's face was screwed up in an inconsolable sob. Danny just looked at me in total confusion, wanting so badly to ask

why this was happening to him. It felt like things were taking too long. I panicked. Then both boys gasped at the same time, taking in huge breaths of air before hugging me tight as I cradled my sons on the kitchen floor. They forgot about the fight. And that very morning, their college fund was $2,000 richer. Life is a series of hard choices in which the beneficiaries never understand what sacrifices were made for their greater good. I didn't use it excessively, but whenever I got too lax with a remote control, they would start hitting each other once more. I was sleeping soundly again. I barely noticed when Kevin walked into my room that night.

Back to bed, I mumbled. Reed Dragons love tacos, he asked. No, Kev, bed, now. I forced myself up and carried him to his room, tucking him in while half asleep. I locked my bedroom door behind me, which I rarely do, but I didn't want him wandering into my room all night. It was a good call on my part,

because the next thing I remembered was waking up to a sunbeam crawling across my face. I stood, stretched, wiped my eyes, and headed toward the kitchen. The living room was a horrific mess. Every couch cushion was shredded. Every soft item had been pulled apart in ransacking that must have taken hours. I marveled at the fact that I didn't hear this taking place, but realized that it made sense, given that I didn't own anything glass or breakable. Had someone tried to enter my room?

My blood chilled as I turned around to see deep scratches dug into my bedroom door. I raced toward the boys' room. That's where I saw the vomit. Someone had emptied a day's worth of food. Gelatinous, bile blobs coated the floor and walls. Puddles of puke were connected by long, flummy strands of foul-smelling human spit. Farther down the hall, the vomit turned to blood. The victim had apparently run out of food before the puking was done.

I sprinted, bare feet splashing in the disgusting fluids as I hurled into the boys' room. I opened the door and my world ended. Danny was dead. No amount of CPR would save a child with lips that blue. The room felt like it was swirling, like a toilet spinning into oblivion, like everything needed to be washed away. My legs were paralyzed, but my head could move just enough to take in the scene. Danny was coated in puk and blood, both of which were drying on his lips. Oh, God, had all the blood been his?

I jerked my head looking for Kevin, and then everything made perfect, awful sense. Kevin held the remote in his hand. He must have grabbed it after coming into my room the night before, just before I locked the bedroom door to keep my children outside. Neither one of them would have understood that Kevin's tiny finger on the remote was causing Danny to lose air. He must have been in so much pain when he clawed the deep scratches into my door, unable to comprehend why I'd locked him out. He would have tried so hard to scream.

Tearing apart the living room had been the only way to express his anguish as he slowly, slowly died. I don't know how many times Kevin pushed the button to make him vomit blood, but I had an extra $600,000 in my bank account that day. Thank you so much for tuning in. If you're listening on Spotify, don't forget to hit that follow button to get notified every time a new episode is released. Also, please take a second to leave a rating for the podcast. This is so important to help the podcast grow. Thank you. Lazzang sur-gely, puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes.

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