The Dark Somnium - "Something is Watching us from The Corner of The Room"

Episode Date: January 5, 2024

This Creepypasta scary story is from the creepypasta website, written by Page Turner, make sure to check out the original story here:"There Is Something Watching us from The Corner of The Room"https://www.creepypasta.com/death-watch/ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hello there, friend, and welcome to Bradshaw, Texas, where the stakes are bloody and the trucks are muddy. I wonder if I could invite you to join me as a fly on the wall this evening. Me? Oh, flies have no names. I'm just an old soul in need of a little company and a good story. So, what do you say? Shall we take a trip to a cool, dark bedroom at 3324 Wilmore Lane, where an elderly woman lies on her deathbed? She can feel the end is near, but she can feel the end is near, refuses to go quietly into that good night, no matter how desperately she yearns for it. Evelyn Kirkwood has a list of ailments longer than her frail arms and all the medications to go with them, but it doesn't matter what they are.

At 79, she's dying of old age, plain and simple. She's had a hard life, and now she's looking at a harder death. It was never going to be any other way. Not for her. Her grandson, a grown man at 38, sits snoozing in a recliner as bulbous raindrops strike the window, and a dark, shadowy figure looms in the corner. Every few minutes, a fresh burst of lightning flashes its eerie glow upon their motionless forms, and a roaring clap of thunder spills into their dreams.

But such things as the weather stopped bothering this family long ago. The weather is something that happens outside. They stay inside. Evelyn married Mark Austin Kirkwood in 1962. They were only 18 back then, and she called him Koston. That's when the world was still pretty and new, when aging was a myth and death was nothing more than a foreign concept. Her husband was a supervisor at the paper mill, and by all appearances they were living out

the coveted middle-class American dream. But like all dreams, this was merely an illusion. All told, they had seven. wonderful years and two beautiful children together before fate reared its ugly head. In the summer of 69, their son was killed in a boating accident after falling overboard. Little Jordan's arm was amputated by the propeller, and the six-year-old perished en route to the hospital. That's the day Koston became Mark. Evelyn blamed him for not shutting off the motor in time, and he blamed her for letting it happen at all. Two weeks after the funeral, Jordan's possessions were taken away.

Even his pictures were removed. Their daughter, Emily, was only four, and did not understand why her brother was gone, why her father was suddenly cold and cruel, and why her mother stayed locked away in her room. She had no point of reference for emotions like grief or depression, but as the days turned into weeks, then months and years, this became all she knew. In 72, Mark was fired for drinking on the job, and the family was forced to move into a small house, 15 miles outside of town. Six months later, Evelyn's mother passed away. It was around then that they traded in their car for a used clunker. That's what Mr. Kirkwood was driving on the morning of April 13,

1973, when he failed to heat a stop sign on Sycamore Street. Unfortunately, at the exact same moment he blew through the intersection, Harriet Springer was trying to get her three kids to school, and she came to what is commonly known as a rolling stop. Had she in fact come to a full stop, she would have undoubtedly noticed the instrument of her demise barreling towards her at 50 miles per hour. Mark got off easy. He died on impact. Well before his debilitated mind could register, the accident was even occurring. Evelyn was forced to take Emily, and what little they had left to her father's home in Alabama.

But the years passed, as they always do. In 76, Evelyn married Ross Bordeaux, a used car salesman. He wasn't much to look at, but he didn't drink, and he was kind at first. Sadly, that too was only temporary. In 78, it came to light that Evelyn's new husband was less interested in her than he was her daughter. Emily was 12 the first time he touched her inappropriately. With each secret visit to her room, he went a little further, and she became a little

more withdrawn from the world. For the rest of Evelyn's life, the day she learned of this picture, she was a little bit of trail will be a jumbled blur. The memories are buried so deep that any time she tries to recall them, she gets an awful headache, and it becomes impossible to think. Sometimes she will see a flash of herself holding a peculiar bottle over a simmering pot. Sometimes it's the image of a bulky, rolled-up rug, a rug that looks a lot like one she used to own. Evelyn reported Ross missing that October. She was the prime suspect only until police discovered. Bordeaux's disgruntled customers. He had half a dozen death threats in his office, and they were

all dated within the last two years. Suddenly, detectives weren't so sure where to look, and no formal charges were ever filed. Eventually, Evelyn was able to sell her home and move back to her father's house. Barely recognizing the empty shell that remained of her daughter, she vowed to never take another husband. Unfortunately, Emily had only begun to learn the cruelty of men. During her senior, year, she began self-medicating with pills, and on her 18th birthday, she dropped out of school to marry a 26-year-old junkie who called himself a musician. His name was Travis Corley, and he overdosed on the night of their first anniversary. Being three months pregnant, the new widow was forced to move in with her mother and grandfather. Fred Mueller was at his limit. His blood pressure

was high, his heart was bad, and he was terrified of what would happen to his girls after he was gone. That fear tripled with the birth of his great-grandson. For the first two years of Tommy's life, Fred was most often the one to change him, feed him, and soothe him. Evelyn did her fair share of work, too, but Emily was rarely home. The family lived in a state of constant dread, that she would follow in the footsteps of her father and a late husband. It was only a matter of when and how. With every phone call, they expected to hear the awful news, but On January 9, 1987, Fred beat her to it by dying in his sleep. Emily still had no interest in straightening out her life, so Evelyn assumed full care of her grandson and subsequently spoiled him rotten.

Tommy was her second chance, and she intended to get things right this time around. All the while, Emily continued down the path of self-destruction until finally, on a stormy January night in 91. Evelyn was killed in a deadly collision caused by an intoxicated driver, only she was not the intoxicated driver. It was one of her clients. He and the only other person in the vehicle, a father of four, also perished in the crash. Evelyn barely reacted. She was as hard as steal towards everyone and everything except for her darling Tommy.

After receiving the max payout from the insurance company, she felt no remorse in going after the driver's family. As it turns out, he was a very successful businessman from the city, looking to be more discreet after causing a scandal the previous year. The lawsuits won enough money to pay off Fred's house and truck while still leaving a sizable nest egg, one that was invested wisely. Her dreams of Tommy becoming a doctor fizzled out around high school, when his grades never seemed to get higher than a C average. Plus, the closer he came to graduation, the more she couldn't handle the thought of letting him go. She could afford to supplement his income no matter what he decided to pursue. But then there was still the problem that he would

eventually meet a girl and want to live with her instead. She found herself feeding him extra sweets after dinner and snacks between meals, anything to fatten him up. She even stopped reminding him to shower, and being a teenage boy, he often averaged just one a week. He wasn't much for socializing, and that was fine too. He had plenty of games, and other kids never gave him a reason to desire their company anyway. After he graduated, Evelyn kept meaning to help Tommy find a job, but then she would think of all those hours that her good boy would be away, or even worse. What if he still managed to meet a girl?

With a little more consideration, she decided it would be best to employ Tommy herself. Every week she gave him a list of odd jobs and paid him 20 an hour for his work. He did a few chores in the evening, but he quickly realized he didn't really need any money. So he quit. A voice in Evelyn's mind told her to speak up, to teach the boy some responsibility, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. As a result, the years continued to pass, and nothing changed, just the way they liked it. This brings us back to where we started, the stormy night of September 27, 2003. At the bedside of a dying woman and her attending grandson.

Tommy. Evelyn's voice is weak and feeble as she calls to her grandson. When he does not stir, she takes a moment before trying again. She has only been at it for a few minutes, but that is an eternity when you are frightened, and the figure in the corner frightens her very much. Tommy, I need... That is as far as she gets before succumbing to a violet fit of coughing. The sound jerks the sleeping man back to reality, and he trips over his own feet while searching

for the light. As he rises, a flash of lightning illuminates the now empty room with an eerie glow, and Tommy has just enough time to reach the lamp before falling back into darkness. You okay, Grandma? His hands tremble ever so slightly as he pours a glass of water and waits for Evelyn's coughing to subside. Fine, fine. She sputters weakly.

When she is ready, he lifts at her lips with one hand while supporting her head with the other. After a few sips, she taps her fingers, and Tommy sets the glass atop her nightstand, before carefully wiping the dribble from her chin. This is how they started each morning. Evelyn wakes to the unshakable feeling that she is being watched, then her eyes seek out the dark figure that she is now all too accustomed with seeing. The first time it appeared, she thought it was merely a hallucination. It was nothing more than a shadowy mass floating outside of her room.

Since then, she has made sure the doors kept shut at night. A week later, maybe a little more, it reappeared, this time in the far corner of her room. It was too dark to be certain, but the shadows seemed to be moving, morphing into something almost humanoid, only its head was much too small for its body, and no limbs had yet taken form. Eight more days passed before she finally saw the earth. apparition clearly enough to recognize its odd shape as the result of a hooded cloak. The garment was a far deeper black than she had previously seen. It made the surrounding night seem pale and dull, but then there was the small void where the figure's face should be.

Evelyn has come to believe, almost accurately, that the face is actually a black hole. She feels an unshakable certainty that it will creep closer and closer until she is simply sucked inside, that its pull will be so fast and so strong, even her dying scream will not escape. Some voice deep within her, perhaps one which still retains knowledge from a previous life, recognizes the looming figure as the shadow of death. Here, let me fix your pillows. Tommy fusses over her bedding, desperate to be helpful. When his grandmother initially became bedridden, she had a nurse with her around the clock,

but she and Tommy found reasons to dismiss each one. Now it is just the two of them, and that is exactly how they intended it to stay. Such a good boy, my sweet. Exhausted, Evelyn is already drifting off again, but Tommy needs her to stay awake. Wait, do you need a bedpan? You don't want to wake up in a mess again, do you? His tone is gentle and caring. He has never felt many positive emotions towards the outside world. because it has never shown any towards him.

But where his grandmother is concerned, that is all he feels. His entire existence revolves around, depends upon her, and there is nothing he fears more than her loss. But I don't gotta. Evelyn whines, but then transitions to the warmer, motherly tone reserved for when she needs to ensure cooperation. Don't let me be a bother. You go on and read your little cartoon books. I feel so much safer when you're watching over me.

My good boy. She doesn't like to think of it as manipulation, but it is exactly that. She is desperate to rest before the apparition returns, which will happen the moment Tommy falls asleep, but she doesn't know how to explain this without sounding senile. In fact, a significant part of her strongly suspects and hopes that is exactly what she is. Sinility is far easier to live with than death. Oh, all right. Tommy knows he will soon pay dearly for acquiescing, but he cannot bring himself to push.

Instead, he returns to the recliner and opens up a comic book. It is less than two hours later when he hears and smells the confirmation of his fears. The alarm is set to go off in 20 minutes, but he does not wish to risk another infection. Laying his comic aside, Tommy yawns. walks to her bedside, brushes his dark hair beneath a shower cap, fits a new pair of plastic booties over his feet, and slips on some rubber gloves while making a mental note to order another box. Ready to begin, he leans down, whispering,

Gammy, it's time, while nudging her shoulder softly, but she barely stirs. Gams, we have to get up now. Evelyn wakes just enough to feebly attempt rolling onto her side, and Tommy positions his arm beneath her to assist. Some of the mess gets on his arm, and he edits his mental note to specify elbow-length gloves. After cleaning the excess waist and removing the sheets, he prepares a warm sponge bath. Such moments used to make him gag and wretch, but now they hardly concern him. Likewise, the first time he bathed his grandmother came with a level of awkwardness most people never experience. It felt wrong, dirty, to rub a wet, soapy sponge on her sagging, naked.

body. But two things helped him overcome this difficult adjustment, mainly repetition. It has a way of desensitizing us to even the most unthinkable acts. The second is how wholly mundane and unappealing the human body becomes after almost 80 years in our cruel world. After the sponge bath, their routine does vary in one new way this morning. There now, how's that? It's not too loose or too tight? These had the best reviews. Lots of people say they forgot they were even wearing them. Outwardly, Tommy is smiling. His voice is sweet and soothing, and his eyes are bright. But inwardly, his stomach is tight, and he is terrified she will change her mind. Yeah, yeah. I keep saying it's not the diapers. It's use in them. How would you like sitting

in your own mess and waiting to be changed? Mm-hmm? Evelyn's eyes are squinted into thin slits to better see her grandson's face. But that's what you were doing anyway. I'll still take you to the bathroom or bring you the bedpan whenever you want. These are just in case. Tommy has lost count of how often he has repeated this exact conversation. But he would gladly triple the number if it meant cleaning less fecal matter. Don't you sass me.

To a stranger, Evelyn would sound angry, but Tommy knows she is simply afraid. They each understand the diapers are more than a demeaning inconvenience. They are an admission of defeat. Another step towards the grave. Oh, no, ma'am, never. Now that his grandmother is cleaned and clothed, she has taken into the living room, where Tommy places her into another hospice bed. This one set to a recline position for better television viewing.

Being in her bedroom all day, every day, was crushing her spirit, but her disposition improved considerably with this simple routine adjustment. She now has a view of the street through her big cottage windows, and she enjoys creating backstories for her neighbors almost as much as she enjoys watching the hummingbirds through her patio doors. Well, Grandma, what do you want to watch this morning? Tommy stands with the remote in his hand, waiting to make a selection, but Evelyn is clearly lost in thought. He cannot actually hear what those thoughts are, but luckily, we can. She will never admit to such thing allowed, or even allow it to dwell too long in her. her mind, but she is desperately worried that her grandson will not be able to care for himself

once she is gone. She has already paid for all that could be prearranged. After the funeral, her ashes will be placed in a beautiful urn and mailed to Tommy. She imagines him placing her upon the mantle, where she will continue to watch over him from above, or she must admit, possibly below. "'Grama, I could use you back here on earth, please.' "'It makes him nervous when she does this.' Her face goes slack and her eyes become cloudy and makes him feel as if he is looking at a corpse.

Only in these final days has Evelyn realized the unforgivable disservice she has done to her grandson. In trying to avoid the mistakes made with Emily, she has isolated him from the rest of the world. She wanted him all to herself and now he will be utterly and completely alone because of it. Okay, let's do some Hitchcock then. That's always a winner. Tommy puts on her favorite show and gently shakes her back to reality. Evelyn's stomach is on a strict schedule, and he is already running behind. With the loss of her teeth the prior year, they quickly found baby food to be the easiest way for her to eat.

She cannot take in much at once, and when Tommy attempted to cook, it always ended with food poisoning, grease fires, or ants. Once, he managed all three. Did you at least get meat flavors? I ain't eaten no more of that banana pears. To anyone else, her words now sounded like garbled gibberish, but Tommy still hears her as clearly as when he was a child, so much so that he would be quite shocked to learn it had changed at all. I sure did, we're having a double helping of turkey for breakfast. He announces this proudly and feels an instant pang of disappointment when she fails to confirm

he is in fact a good boy. Looking up from the selection of baby foods, he sees her attention has drifted to one of the dark corners, and her lips appear to be moving. He has caught her doing this a few times over the last couple of weeks, but he can never make out her words, and she becomes angry when questioned. He thinks it is because she is embarrassed, but we know it's because she is frightened. Crossing the room quietly, he listens closely. I told you to stay out of here, you sorry, bastard!

Tommy wonders if she is seeing her dead husband. A mind like that cannot conceive of something like death manifesting as a physical entity, not outside of his comics, at least. Yet, when he glances back to the corner, the food tray falls from his hands and the awful noise is almost enough to conceal his startled scream. For just the briefest instant, he saw the outline of something large and misshapen, but then his eyes adjust and he sees the corner is actually empty. Evelyn feels as if her heart has stopped and wondered if this is the moment she will die. But ever so gradually, her breathing returns to normal, and her heart resists.

Zoom's beating, though perhaps slightly more strained. Oh, I'm sorry, I thought I saw something for a second. Tommy is trying to make light of things, but he is slowly beginning to crack under the mounting pressure. He has already well past his limit, and he knows the sudden addition of terrifying hallucinations will utterly destroy him. So, you see, they both have their own reasons for being particularly upset. Evelyn looks up to see her grandson is pale and shaking.

But he is not her immediate concern. What terrifies her is the fact that he saw the apparition. He should not be able to see the products of her dying mind. So what the hell is it? She does not mean to mutter the question aloud, but she has little control over such faculties these days. No, no, Grandma, there was no one there. Tommy bends down to meet her at eye level and speaks even louder.

I was mistaken. It tests every ounce of Evelyn's patience. Bit boy, back up. I've told you I'm harder here and not death. She is not trying to be harsh. She understands his reaction all too well. She has spent more than half her life believing she was ready to leap into death's arms. But now that the time has come, she does not want that menacing black shadow anywhere near her. Its presence in her home is an unwelcome intrusion she would like to banish with a shotgun. Right. Sorry. Here, how about we get you some breakfast? Nothing broke. All I know.

need to do is fix you a new glass of orange juice. I'll be right back. Tommy rushes off before she can protest, and Evelyn is left alone once more. Only now does she notice the television is on, and eagerly directs her full attention toward it. She wants to think everything will be fine as long as she doesn't look in the corner, but she doesn't believe that at all. Tommy, what's today's date? Evelyn asks as he returns with her juice. It's the... Tommy He stretches the word as he checks his phone. 27th. I'll hang on for as long as I can,

but I don't think I'll get to see October this year. Just remember, if it's only a matter of a few hours, maybe a day, do whatever you have to do to make it to the end of the month. You might as well get one more check out of those government bastards. But don't try to wait any longer. Who's my good boy? Me, I am.

Tommy blushes proudly, knowing he will absolutely do whatever it takes to fulfill this morbid request when the time comes. Of course, he is once again envisioning her death as taking place in the distant future. He operates on one very basic principle, that as long as he keeps his grandmother nourished and comfortable, she will not die. He only sees the brave face Evelyn presents outwardly. He cannot understand the betrayal of having one's own body turn against them, nor can he fathom the excruciating pain that comes with knowing you will be sick every day for the rest of your life. Yes, you are. Evelyn Cooze as if speaking to a toddler, and Tommy soaks up the sweet praise that is his sustenance.

The rest of the day is a cycle of these same events. After breakfast, Evelyn watches the television and hummingbirds until dozing off. A few hours later, Tommy wakes her, changes her diaper, a task which proves far more simple than changing her bed sheets and nightgown, and feeds her lunch. Dinner comes and goes in much the same way, and then it's time to get ready for bed. Evelyn is fed, changed, brushed, and moved back to her bedroom where she watches more television until falling asleep. Then, like every other night, Tommy sneaks upstairs to play on his computer. Sometimes that means watching a movie, playing a game, or listening to music. The earliest Evelyn has ever woken is between 2.30 and 3.

Therefore, Tommy makes certain to return by 2. With this routine, she has never noticed his absence, until right now, at the stroke of midnight, when she wakes up in a state of absolute terror. She is positive that she just experienced some unspeakably horrific nightmare, but she cannot recall what took place. Then she feels the specter's presence, and she has her answer. The television is still on, and she dares not look away from it. She feels cold, empty, like death's hand is looming only inches away, and she does not wish to know if her instinct is correct. Without moving, she calls out to no one. Oh, please wake up.

Evelyn continues this way for several minutes. Her fear growing with each second. Finally, she cannot stand it anymore. Ever so slowly, she lowers her gaze toward his chair. His empty chair. Must be in. That's what she tells herself, but deep down, she knows it has already been too long for that. Damn it, Tommy.

Before she can finish her thought, she sees it. To say its hand is only inches away may be an exaggeration, but not a very big one. The apparition stands just at the foot of her bed, its arm extended towards her, hand opened wide. inviting, and it has changed its form. It now radiates warmth and comfort. All her feelings of empty coldness vanish as if blown away by a refreshing summer breeze. It is the hand of her father, her mother, her daughter, and even her little son all joined together. Where the figure's face was once a black void, she can now see the faces of her long-lost

loved ones calling her home. But no matter how desperately she wishes to join them, she simply cannot. What about Tommy? Her words are barely audible, but she asserted the apparition understands them, and that it does not care. Be it a homeless man on the street, the President of the United States, or death incarnate, Evelyn will not tolerate the dismissal of her grandson's life. She calls upon every ounce of pain and misery she has ever felt while focusing on the memory

of their boats speeding towards Little Jordan. We must have looked like a monster coming to gobble him up. She pictures the sight of Mark and Emily in the morgue, her parents in their coffins, and she imagines crumpling all of that anguish and rage into a tight black ball, which is then hurled at the apparition. In reality, nothing actually passes between the two. But just as she sees the ball of hatred collide with the entity in her mind, the figure with the warm faces and welcoming hands, and welcoming hand explodes into dozens of snake-like shadow tendrils that swarm all around her bed. Evelyn tries to scream, but no sound escapes.

She is forced to watch in helpless terror as the black shadows stretch, warp, and bend their way into the tall, sinister figure she is accustomed to. Only now its reaching hand is that of a skeleton, and its palm is no longer turned upwards in invitation, but down, prepared to take. Its long bony fingers are sharpened to fine points, and Evelyn already knows its grip will be like ice-cold steel. It looms over the foot of her bed, like a nightmare personified, growing taller, darker, and somehow, she knows, angrier. Her eyes are involuntarily affixed to its true face, which to her horror is now visible. It is the face of the oldest thing she has ever seen. Its gray leathery skin is mottled and stretched thin over its skull, conforming to the shape like a glove.

It has no distinguishable gender, hair, her nose. Its paper-thin lips are stitched shut with thick red thread, and its eyes are empty sockets, windows to the predatorial void awaiting her. She can feel its pull, and when it gets too close, it will consume her. Adding to her panic, Evelyn is completely paralyzed. Her mind is awake and trapped, helpless, inside of a useless body. Mentally, she is very much like that of a cornered animal. She understands the now, the sight before her, the feeling of a clenched fist in her chest,

the pain on her left arm and upper abdomen, the nausea and the cold sweat breaking out all over her body. But animals never concern themselves with why. The predator chases them, whether for food or sport, They must run. The apparition is now so large it must bend forward as to not hit the ceiling. Its body stretches across the length of Evelyn's bed, placing its face directly above her own. And suddenly, faster than any human eye can follow, it descends upon her like a pouncing tiger, enveloping her. If someone looked at this precise moment, they would see the literal definition of nothing.

Evelyn, her bed, the floor beneath it, the wall behind it, they all appear to be gone. It is as if some great God has taken a pair of scissors and removed them from the universe, leaving only a blank void in their place. But they haven't gone anywhere. They are simply hidden beneath the black blanket of death. Likewise, the last thing Evelyn experiences before losing consciousness is nothing. She hears nothing. She sees nothing.

She smells nothing. She tastes nothing and she feels nothing. Not physically or emotionally. She has no desires, no fears, no memories, no dreams. There is only the vast expanse of nothing. Tommy never hears the sound. When he returns, he sees only his grandmother, resting peacefully. Agammy?

A gamgam? Come on, it's almost 6.30. Can you believe it? I can't remember the last time we slept. through the night, can you? Tommy shakes Evelyn gently, but she shows no signs of stirring, and her head rolls side to side in a loose, unnatural way. Now frightened, his voice grows louder, more frantic. Grandma, you have to wake up now. Gammy? Grandma, you have to. What did I tell you about screaming in my ear, boy? Her voice is a hoarse whisper, but Tommy has no

trouble hearing it. Oh, holy shit. I almost called 911. Are you okay? Should we? I mean, do you think we should go? No. She cuts him off. Her voice suddenly restored to its prime. We ain't going nowhere. Use your head. Uh, okay. If you're sure, I guess that's fine. Tommy is confused. Something feels wrong, but he is not sure what. Ain't you going to change me? Did you suddenly lose your sense of smell or something. Sorry, Gammy. Just glad you're okay. Tommy Dawn's protective gear and moves Evelyn to the top of her large dresser,

which has been converted into a makeshift changing table. With practiced ease, he quickly opens her gown, but that's as far as he gets. No amount of experience could have prepared him for the sight hidden beneath. Her diaper looks like a jumbo water balloon filled with toxic black sludge. The waist flaps are barely holding, and shit is leaking out of every opening. He gasps audibly as he stares slack-jawed behind his mask, and his expression is one often worn when trying to solve a difficult puzzle. He simply doesn't know what he's going to do with all the waste.

It's on his arms, her nightgown, and all over the sheets, even the floor. What's the problem? Her tone is sharp and defensive. It brings Tommy back to reality. Nothing. Nothing at all. There's just a little more mess than usual, but we'll have you fixed up right. Quick, don't you worry.

He avoids her gaze by busying himself with extra towels, four of which go directly into the trash. Something simply cannot be changed. When the diaper is finally removed, it barely fits in the waistbasket, and Tommy is forced to fetch one from the bathroom, which is also soon filled to the brim. With the worst mess of his life nearly behind him, he takes both small trash cans to the curb rather than risk the plastic bags bursting. He doesn't care if it upsets the H-O-way to put them out. day early, nor does he care if the garbage men are angry.

He simply wants the mess out of his house so he can begin erasing this awful memory. Back inside, he is completely lost in thought as he passes through the living room and turns into the hallway where he suddenly lets out a short, high-pitched scream. At the far end of the still corridor, hovering in mid-air, is a cloud of swirling black shadows. They are stretched long and thin like eyeless snakes, twisting and writhing themselves into a knot. Tommy reflexively shuffles backwards out of the hall, but trips on a rug in his haste. He is stunned momentarily before recalling the reason for his panic, but the pain in his aging body has a sobering effect.

It's just not possible. Shadows can't move on their own, especially not through the goddamn air. Rising to his feet, he holds his breath and turns back toward the hallway, feeling a relief wash over him to see it is empty once again. Yesterday's similar incident flashes through his mind, and he briefly wonders if a tumor could be causing these hallucinations. Then comes to the realization that this would mean visiting a doctor, and he dismisses the theory as quickly as it has come. Then he remembers his grandmother, and his suffocating fear of disapproval temporarily erases all other thoughts as he rushes to her side. Well, look who it is.

Grandma, I'm really sorry. I took out the trash, but then there was this. Tommy hesitates. He doesn't want to strain Evelyn's heart with a fright, nor does he wish her to think he's losing his mind. A big spider in the hall. Don't worry, I killed it and sprayed some of that poison. I guess that explains why you scream like a little girl. So how about it? You're going to get me off this damn dresser or what?

There is a hint of playfulness to her words that gives Tommy a profound sense of relief, like some great danger narrowly avoided. Yeah, I guess. I did sound like a girl. Well, in my defense, it was a really big spider. But hey, it's dead and I'm alive, so let's get you into something more comfortable and head into the living room. Tommy maintains a chipper disposition as he raises Evelyn to a sitting position and gets a fresh nightgown over her head. But then his work comes to a stop. Can you lift your arm for me, please? Well, I'm sorry, Tom. It doesn't seem that I can.

Hold on. Don't panic. You're the one panicking. Here, let me just... Tommy gently lifts Evelyn's arm into the sleeves, one at a time, then carefully places her on the wheelchair. When she cannot hold herself upright, he bends forward to secure the harness, something she has never needed until now, and breathes in the smell of something far worse than human waste. Grandma, I don't want to do it any more than you, but we really can't put off going to the... Don't you dare say it. You know, they'd never let me come home.

Her words are like actual needles in his ears. They're angry, hurt, confused, and worst of all, knowing, accusing. Do you remember what we talked about? Yes, ma'am. Tommy's reply is mumbled, and his head hangs low in defeat. Strands of greasy hair fall before his face, but they hide his shame from no one. Did you think I was joking? No, ma'am.

Your childhood has lasted damn near forty years now, boy. It's time to be a man. There's no one left to take care of you. A sudden, violent bout of coughing snaps Tommy back into caretaker mode, and he rushes to bring his grandmother a cup of water. After waiting for the fit to subside, he lifts it to her lips. But each time, the coughing resumes, and the water dribbles down her chin in front. Oh, forget the damn water, would you? Sweet Jesus.

I'm sorry. Bye. and fine, and you can wear that scowl for as long as you like, but I still ain't going back to no hospital. What's the number one rule, son? No hospitals, no exceptions. Yes, yes. Now tell me why.

Come on, I know you remember. Because you want to die in your own bed, in your own time, with no further intervention from medical professionals or their expensive scams. That's right. And what are you going to do if I die right before the end of the month? Wait until midnight on the first to call 911. Only half of Tommy's awareness is in the present. The other half is a million miles away, falling into a bottomless pit alongside dozens of eyeless shadow snakes.

Yes, but not too long, right? Now, who's my good boy? Me, I am. There is no enthusiasm behind his words, only dejected, feet. Well, we can't put off the sponge bath any... Oh, yes, we can. You know as well as I do, it won't help. Why put either of us through the extra bother? It eats up so much of our time. Wouldn't you rather be playing one of your games while I watch TV? Her points are impossible for Tommy to dispute. If he is honest with himself,

he cannot remember the last time a bath made a dent in her smell. But this is different. It's more than a foul odor. It is downright rotten, and it scares him like a bad omen. As he pushes Evelyn into the hallway, he thinks again of the shadow serpents and wonders if the smell is really his grandmother or something lingering near her. Yeah, I guess you're right. Well, we're behind schedule anyway. If we hurry, we can still fit in your people watching time. No! She snaps. It is quick and vicious, and then it is gone. We'll leave the curtains closed today. I have a headache. The suspect of sitting in the dark all day is not one that Tommy relishes, but with how the morning

is going so far, breakfast worries him much more, and his instincts are finally correct. After placing Evelyn in the living room bed, he retrieves the food tray and a single helping of ham-flavored baby food. Come on, Grandma, just try, please. He stands, exasperated with a spoon full of goop, but Evelyn's mouth is shut tight. But you settled down and listen to me. God damn it. I'm trying to tell you I can't swallow it. Do you want to have to clean that slop all for you?

Me and the floor for no reason? But you have to... I don't have to. Nothing, mister? How hush. With no arguments left to make, Tommy resigns himself to the couch. The curtains have all been pulled closed. The room is dim enough to be mistaken for nighttime, and it

frightens him. Deciding it was better to clean in the light than cower in the dark, he starts a load of laundry before loading the dishwasher. The kitchen has a window cut out which overlooks the living room, allowing him to keep an eye on his grandmother. He watches her for a moment, sitting stiff as a board, eyes pointed at a television just out of his view, and he weeps softly. The dishwasher needs to be replaced, but that would require letting strangers into the house. Instead, he prefers to help the old girl along by pre-rinsing. After developing a rhythm, his mind begins to wander, and he momentarily forgets about scary things lurking in the dark. But he remembers to cast an occasional glance

in Evelyn's direction. It is during one of these glances that he sees the outline of a tall figure standing in the far corner of the living room. It is wearing all black, and has a hood pulled over its head. But it is too dark to see its face. Panic takes over, and a plate falls from his hand, shattering. He ignores his grandmother's startled cry, focusing only on the motionless intruder as he rushes into the living room and fumbles for the light switch. Evelyn recoils at the sudden brightness, but Tommy hardly takes notice. The corner is now empty, but it was only out of his sight for a second. He searches the room for any sign of where the figure could have gone, but he and Evelyn are quite alone.

Just what do you think you're doing? You're not cracking up on me now, are you? Didn't you see him? Tommy continues checking behind every piece of furniture, even though he has already seen nothing in there. Oh. Oh. Is that damn mouse back again? No, that... He stops himself from taking it any further.

Nothing. Never mind. Just shadows, I guess. Then turn off the damn light. Tommy does as he's told, too confused to argue, and returns to clean his mess in the kitchen. By lunchtime, Evelyn remains paralyzed and is still refusing to eat. What Tommy tries to feed her dribbles down her chin and into her lap, all the while there is a tall shadow figure in the corner of his eye, but when he turns his head, nothing is

there. Dinner is much the same, and tonight Tommy does not feel like spending time in his room. To be so far away from his grandmother would either be too lonely or not lonely enough, and he does not wish to experience either scenario. When he moves her into the bedroom, she feels cold and stiff. After adding an extra blanket to her bed, he gently massages her arms and legs to increase circulation. You can't possibly think that's going to do a damn bit of good.

Evelyn's voice is condescendingly amused. It certainly isn't hurting anything. Tommy mutters without looking up from his task. Nothing but that little head of yours. She replies with a soft, low chuckle, which turns into another coughing fit. Tommy tries to give her water, but again, most of it misses the mark. Her inability to drink frightens him more than the paralysis or refusal to eat. If a healthy person can only survive for a few days without water, how long will she last?

Then there is the matter of the shadows, the shadows which are suddenly able to move of their own volition and change their shape at will. He feels very much as if he is in one of his comics. Oh, forget it. I'm fine now. Evelyn had the ability to move her arms, she would have slapped it from his hands. But, grandma... I said, forget it!

The sudden venom in his grandmother's tone makes Tommy recoil, and he retreats to the recliner where he silently stares at the television until falling asleep. All night, he dreams of the room's shadows gradually stretching themselves toward the same direction, becoming longer, thinner as the hours pass. Ever so slowly, they peel away from their surfaces and merge in the far corner, where dozens more of these serpents are now settling in the shape of a tall, cloaked figure. It is entirely black without a speck of color. Where its face should be is a void so dark, Tommy feels it must be a hole in the very fabric of reality.

Then he blinks, and upon opening his eyes, the figure is standing before him. He now finds himself staring directly into the void, and he screams, pushing himself in the recliner backwards. When he next opens his eyes, he is lying flat. on his back, feet in the air, and the sun is shining through Evelyn's curtains. He is drenched in a sheen of cold sweat and his heart races with the all-two real memories of his nightmare. But try as he might, he cannot remember what he saw within the void, and he is grateful. Are you dead?

Are you going to answer me or what? These are the first words of which Tommy is consciously aware, but they sound far away. There is a piece of his mind screaming that it must be a little. late, that he has important things to which he must attend, but an even greater piece is still staring into that impossible void, unable to look away. In it is the memory of Evelyn's paralysis, which finally breaks the spell. Is she better, worse? Had her words sounded playful, light-hearted, dare he think, just now?

He must know. Shaking away the last of his stupor, he winces for his bad back as he rolls out of the overturned recliner and rises to his feet. Taking in the room around him, he notices every shadow in its proper place. In the light of the day, nightmares always seem so silly and overly dramatic, but not this one. If anything, the instilled cold sense of dread is only intensifying, affecting his senses. When his eyes first fall onto Evelyn, he is taken aback by the side of a pale corpse, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Then he shuts his eyes tightly to refocus. She was just speaking.

She can't be dead. I'm still hallucinating. He repeats the lines in his head like a mantra until he is once again brought back to the moment by his grandmother's voice. Hello? Is anybody home? Tommy. What the hell is wrong with you, boy? You ain't gone touched in the head, have you?

I tell you what, we don't have time for that, Sonny. You best snap out of it. When he opens his eyes, all appears normal once again. Sorry, I'm just... It's nothing. With a shake of his head, he brings himself fully back to the present. Stands the recliner right side up and gets to work. I'm fine now. Everything is fine.

Don't let him fool you, friend. It is most certainly not fine. He just desperately needs it to be. In fact, he has never wished for anything so unreservedly, so desperately as he wishes for this. Well, I should think so. Looky here. Detecting a surprise undertook.

tone of cheer, Tommy follows her gaze down to her arm, where she holds it slightly raised. Guess I'm going to be around a bit longer after all. As the morning progresses, he learns her bowel movements are back to the normal level of disgusting, and, most importantly, she's able to swallow again. Not only does she drink a glass of water, she eats an entire jar of beef baby food. Even though he wishes she would eat a little more, Tommy is elated by her improvement. He almost forgets there is a tall, sinister shower. shadow figure looming in the corner.

Evelin's silence regarding the unwatted presence had led him to assume it isn't real, and thus he has decided to treat it accordingly. With this new strategy in place, the day passes as smoothly as one can, considering the less than ideal circumstances. His last Amazon order arrives. He is able to clean the awful stench from his grandmother, and after dinner they watch a movie before going to bed. The night, however, is not so kind to our dear protagonist.

His dreams are once again plagued by shadows and visions of Evelyn's rotting corpse, but memories of his nightmare fade soon after waking, and the morning proceeds normally. Unfortunately, this perfect illusion is nearing its end. As lunchtime approaches, there is a knock at the kitchen door. Oh, the hell is that? Evelyn sounds as annoyed as Tommy feels. I'm sure it's one of those sorry neighbors again. I'll be right back.

On his way, another round of knocking sounds. I'm coming, I'm coming. Tommy pulls open the door with an annoyed jerk. Hey there, neighbor. I was walking over to check on y'all and noticed your cans are still out, so I thought I'd bring them up on my way. The middle-aged man in the sweater vest lives next door. Jason Wagner also happens to be president of the Homeowners Association.

His extended hand is ignored, and he makes a look of disgust when the rancid stench from inside invades his senses. A refusal to shake hands would normally anger Jason, But after seeing and smelling his neighbors, he now considers himself fortunate. Oh, you shouldn't have. Tommy replies in a tone that clearly conveys his sincerity. Jason awkwardly wipes his hand at the thought of his near miss. Anyway, I know you have a lot in your plate with everything.

So I just wanted to remind you that trash days are Tuesday and Friday, not Thursday. And it runs pretty early, but as long as you drag the cans back on the same day, It doesn't really matter what time you do it. Sometimes I don't get my own until damn near 9 o'clock had nighed. This is a fascinating exchange, truly. You see, Jason harbors quite the distaste for Tommy. Yet, due to the pressing social obligation under which he had been conditioned to adhere, he is incapable of expressing such emotions outwardly.

This is why he feels the need to include polite laughter, even though the subject material is clearly not humorous. Even more interesting is the fact that Tommy understands, these protocols very well. He is fully aware that Jason expects him to follow a certain script, to chuckle at his jokes, to politely agree with his every word, and end it all with a firm, hearty handshake. But Tommy will not bend. Upsetting Jason Wagner is one of the few pleasures life still affords him. After a long, thoughtful pause, he simply responds. While you're here, I've been wondering about something. Why is it called the HOA?

y'all know homeowner is just one word right not wishing to give tommy the satisfaction of a reaction and equally desperate to escape the awful odor now burning his lungs jason is already walking away as he says just remember what i said next time there'll be a fifty dollar fine and the prices go up after that ah the politics of human interaction it never gets dull of course tommy forgets his neighbor's threat by the time he closes the door the only thing that confuses him more more than the HOA's existence is the fact so many bend to its will. They have no official authority. The source of their power is merely the fear of rejection, and he considers those who participate to be the lowest form of life. He is also wholly ignorant to the chain of events he has just set into motion. Had he handled his neighbor with a bit more care, our story may have ended differently, but

now, sadly, the events we are about to witness are set in stone. Jason again. He hears Evelyn ask from the other room. Yep. Tommy speaks loudly to be heard from the kitchen where he is preparing her lunch tray. Well, what was he crying about this time? I put the trash out a day early. Oh, he can suck a rock.

We're going to need Joey to cut the yard one more time, though, or they'll all be bitching about that next. Yeah, I'll text him after lunch. Are you hungry yet? I found a new flavor. Turkey pasta baked. Jesus, boy, if you want to poison me, just drop some cyanide in the ham jar. Why do you keep ordering all these weird, chunky flavors? Well, I couldn't tell it had chunks when I ordered it.

I just thought you might want to try something new. Never mind. Here, I'll go get the ham. I don't know what's gotten into you the last couple days. It's like you're living off in a different world. Quietly returning with the new food jar, Tommy responds without thinking. I know. I'm sorry. I'm doing my best, but it's kind of hard to keep up with everything that needs doing around here while the shadows are coming to life.

Only after the words are out does he realize what he has said. I mean, I'm sure it's just stress. Now the things are getting back to normal, the hallucinations will probably stop. Oh, I didn't realize you could see him too. I just didn't want to worry you. But it's only that. He's here for me, not you. Tommy stands in stunned silence as he processes.

this new information, which so completely, so instantly, has reversed every belief holding him together. It takes all of his self-control to keep his voice steady and calm. Cammy, are you saying that you can physically see a man standing in the corner over there? He gestures to the apparition with an almost imperceptible nod. No, it's not a man. It's death. And he's only here for me.

Just ignore him. That's what I do. He's been hanging around for weeks, but I keep refusing to go with him. I don't know why you're so surprised. I keep telling you we're going to get that extra month's check. It's already the 29th. We're so close now. And who knows, with the way I've been feeling, we might just shoot for November.

Evelyn's laughter echoes in Tommy's mind as he races upstairs to retrieve his handgun. He purchased the Smith & West in 22 on a whim and has never actually used it, but he feels now is the time. After making sure it is loaded and ready to fire, he hurries downstairs to face what he now fervently believes must be a crazed homeless man. But when he reaches the living room and turns on the light, no one is there. Where'd he go? Tommy searches the room in a panicked rush, gun raised and ready. What in Sam hell are you doing with that thing? Not now. Quick. Which way did he go? You can't possibly think you're going to shoot death.

Tell me I didn't raise that big of a fool. You're a fool if you think death has been hanging out in our house for weeks on end. Do you hear yourself? Is your mind going now, too? Tommy instantly regrets his harsh words and takes a softer tone. I'm sorry. I just don't understand why you aren't taking this more seriously. Oh, stop being so dramatic.

It was death. Couldn't you feel it? Didn't you sense it? Like some long forgotten memory. Seeing no point in further debate, Tommy settles for, I guess we'll see soon enough. Fear not, my friend. I know our journey has been a long one, but I promise you, the end is near. We must only take the briefest of intermissions so I might inform you of what is taking place next door. Jason Wagner is currently, at this precise moment, eating a delicious roast sandwich with his wife, Meg,

and recounting the details of his visit with Tommy. His biggest concern is the smell. He caught only a glimpse of the kitchen and wonders if it is the sole source of the stench or if the rest of the house is in a similar state. Either way, he assertion cannot be receiving the care she requires. He feels compelled to call for a welfare check. While Meg believes this would be a waste of time, the state only intervenes of cases of the absolute worst of conditions.

And she fears what a man like Tommy may be. do if they were to call the police. With his lunch hour nearing its end, Jason is forced to accept Meg's suggestion to wait until after his big presentation. However, due to unforeseen circumstances, he will not return home until after 11 p.m., drunk and incoherent, but tomorrow is another day. Tommy puts Evelyn to bed at the usual time, and again, choosing to remain by her side. The 22 tucked securely in his lap.

And again, his night is plagued by images of death. Visions he will not remember, but will see again nonetheless. For now, he will only recall a tall, dark, hooded figure rushing toward him. Without hesitation, he raises his weapon and fires not once, but three times. The figure disintegrates into hundreds of shadow snakes which disperse in every direction, disappearing into the walls and floors, all except for a single serpent which strikes out, latching onto his outstretched foot. At the same instant, Tommy's world turns red as his foot explodes with a blinding pain

that radiates outward throughout his entire body. Instantly, he is awake and screaming in agony. The world is still red, only he now understands his own blood to be its source. The gun remains in his hand, but he hastily drops it on the nightstand, wishing to be rid of it. Tommy can hear his grandmother fighting to be heard over his own agonized whales, but the pain becomes so unbearable that her words might as well be in another language. He needs to move quickly, but he cannot so much just sit up to properly inspect the wound, not until he can hear Evelyn calling for him to call 911.

No, I don't need a goddamn ambulance. I just need a second. Can you please give me that? Tommy angrily spits through gritted teeth, but he is slowly unfurling his body. Though it involves much more screaming, he uses his arms to push himself to an upright position, Then slowly lifts his leg to bring his foot across his lap, where he can see the bullet's exit wound. Grateful for some bit of luck, he removes his shirt and wraps securely around the gaping hole. Bullet went all the way through. Gotta get cleaned up. I'll be right back. I'm sorry.

Tommy hobbles out of the room. He falls just before reaching his destination and drags himself the rest of the way. After finally making it to the bathroom, he leans against the wall to catch his breath. That is when his eyes fall upon a tall, shadowy figure. in the dark hallway, and it's now pointing at him with a rotting, skeletal hand. The only emotion it inspires is pure, unfettered rage. With his good foot, he kicks the door shut with a loud bang and takes several deep breaths. It will take Tommy a moment to finish tending his wounds. While we wait, perhaps I should remind you of the Wagner's.

If you recall, Jason wished to speak with the police about a welfare check for our dear Evelyn, his wife convinced him to give the matter further consideration. As it would happen, the incident with his neighbor was pushed to the back of his mind after receiving a promotion and the wild night that followed. But after hearing this morning's gunshots and those horrible screams, he knew what he must do. Now that Tommy's foot is clean and properly bandaged, he hobbles to his gaming room, where he retrieves a real oak replica of Gandalf's staff. With it, he is able to move around with slightly greater ease, but he is noticeably paid. from the blood loss, and several of the bones in his foot are shattered.

The sight beneath the bandage is already growing grimmer as the bruising darkens and the swelling increases, but he is so numb with shock and fury that he barely feels it anymore. His body is like a machine fueled by pure desperation. Wow, it's nice to see you're alive. Tommy is pleased to see Evelyn's temper is cooled. In his current condition, he is not sure he could control his own if provoked. Yeah, I was going to say the same to you. I'm sure you're ready to get changed.

I'm sorry. Damn, I'm sorry. Nothing we can do about it now. What's done is done. We'll just have to take it one step at a time. Oh, no pun intended. And see how it goes. I'm glad you're able to find it so humorous.

His words are low and bitter, but he is angriest with himself. You fired three times, you know. Yams, please. Tom's voice cracks and tears spill down his cheeks as he pulls her sheep back and prepares to move her. All right, all right. What are you planning to do about me? We could call up one of those temp nurse. No, I told you we don't need anyone. I can handle it.

With a loud, agonizing grunt, Tommy attempts to lift Evelyn from the bed. But the moment any weight shifts to his right foot, they both collapse back onto the mattress. Maybe you should just put a towel down and do it here. This isn't going to work, son. Yeah, yeah, you're right. Be right back. Hey, wait a second. What'd you do with the gun?

It's tucked into my waistband. And yes, the safety is on. Changing Evelyn's diaper pushes Tommy to his absolute limit, but the thought of having the nurse in the house again is enough to keep him going. Moving her to the living room, however, proves impossible. Deciding to remain in the bedroom, he hobbles to the kitchen for her food tray.

It is there he hears a violent knocking at the door, followed by, Police, open up. Perhaps if Tommy had not been blinded with anger or suffering from sleep deprivation, he would have remained silent and taken his chances. But he is hurt, he is scared. And on some level, he understands he is alone. He does not know why the police read his door, but since he believes he has done nothing wrong,

he views them purely as a nuisance. Ripping the door open, he sees two officers, and he is left standing before them in bloodied clothes with a giant wooden staff and bandaged foot on full display. They did not pair well with his ghostly white skin tone, wild bushy beard, or wide bloodshot eyes. Before he can speak, the man introduces himself as Officer Daniels and his female partner as Newcomb. They are there for a welfare check on Evelyn Kirkland, but advised they also received reports of gunfire. Yes, of course there was gunfire. We're in Texas. There's always gunfire. Who the hell cares?

Well, when we get calls that people are scared in their own homes, we care, sir. Especially when the shots are fired from somewhere that happens to be emanating a suspicious smell. Not to mention, sir, you happen to be covered in blood and appear to have a serious injury to your right foot. I don't suppose you would let us come in and take a look around. Maybe speak to Mrs. Kirkland. Officer Daniels remains courteous, despite Tommy's hostile demeanor.

Hell no, Gammy is resting. She would tear my hide if I brought people into a room. We're just fine. Can you be on your way? Well, hold on now. Officer Daniels placed his hand on the door to stop it from latching. We just can't take your word for it on a welfare check. We have to make sure she's okay.

And when she is, we'll be sure to tell her you did your best to keep us out of her hair. And by the way, just what is that smell anyway? It sure is mighty strong. Of course, the officers already know what the smell is. They've experienced it enough times in their line of work, but they have to play the game. That's not any of your business, but that happens to be a can full of my grandmother's shitty diapers, because the HOA idiots will cry if I take out the goddamn trash. Tommy is growing increasingly angry.

He does not even notice when the officer's hands move closer to their holsters. Right, right, and does all that blood belong to you or? Officer Daniels lets the silence hang. Yes, it's mine. You can see my foot is obviously injured. I hope you got a nice little power rush out of this, but if you'll excuse me, I've got to feed my grandmother now. If you expect to cross that threshold, I expect you come back with a warrant. This time, Tommy successfully slams the door.

He can hear the officers speaking into their radio as they walk away, but the words escape him. With a racing heart and shaking hands, he slowly makes his way back to Evelyn with the food tray. What was that all about? Uh, police, it's a welfare check for you. Tommy collapses at the foot of her bed, barely managing to keep the tray upright, though his staff falls to the ground with a hard bud. Absolutely not. I can't go out there, and those dirty pigs aren't coming into my house. No, sir. That's what I told them. His hands are now shaking so badly that he struggles to remove the lid from the jar of baby food. Good. That's my good boy, Tommy. My good, good boy.

The words are like a balm on Tommy's wounded soul, and the jar lid gives way with a satisfying pop. I love you, Gammy. He adds with a soft sigh as he prepares a spoonful of turkey-flavored mush. You've always been the perfect son. I don't tell you that enough, but I'm going to start. Our dear Tommy is so immersed in the praise that he's long to hear, but he does not even notice the dull throb radiating throughout his right leg anymore. He becomes lost in daydreams, filled with what-ifs,

and should-haves that can now never be. Time slips away, and he is surprised to hear the spoon suddenly scraping along the jar's bottom. Oh, I guess that's it. Well, we can't go to the living room, but we can still watch some Hitchcock. How about it? Tommy feels that he is doing well. He does not understand that he is pale as a sheet, or that his words are barely coherent. If not for the copious amounts of blood, he would easily be mistaken for someone in the

throws of violent withdrawals. That sounds wonderful, son. A grin spreads across Tommy's face as he relishes the moments he's been waiting for. To him, it feels as if weeks have passed since he first injured himself. But now, finally, he is able to collapse in his recliner and rest. He struggles only for a moment to get an extra pillow beneath his bad foot. Then he lays back, starts Evelyn's playlist, and closes his eyes. At the exact same moment, there comes the sound of distant police sirens, and they're getting closer.

It takes no time at all for them to reach 33-24 Wilmore Lane, at which point they are shut off, and Tommy's phone begins to ring. Not recognizing the number, he presses decline and blocks the caller. After repeating the same process with the next three calls, there is a moment of silence before a woman's voice can be heard speaking through a megaphone. This is Sergeant Pamela Reed with the Bradshaw PD. We have a warrant to search the property. Come out with your hands up or we will have no choice but to enter by force.

Pamela's words are filled with authority and practiced ease that comes with repeating the same phrase for years on end. But they soften as she continues, becoming full of compassion and understanding. It is the tone she uses to convince criminals she is their friend. Please, Tommy. We only want to help Evelyn. Just let us say a few words to her, then we can clear up this whole misunderstanding and all gone with our day. Don't you want that, Tommy? Tommy does not respond aloud.

He merely closes his eyes and begins rubbing his temples while humming a soft wallaby from his childhood. No, they can't do that. They can't. Tommy. Oh, Tom, don't let them take me. You can't. You won't, will you? Please say you won't.

The sobbing desperation. he hears in Evelyn's voice is just enough to pull him from the trance, and he has flooded with new determination. If he only does one thing right in his entire life, he wants, no, needs it to be this. Grandma, so help me, I don't care what it takes. What I got to do, those bastards aren't going to get you, I promise. Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.

I knew my good boy wouldn't let me down. Oh, Tommy, my life would have been so awesome. Awful, so empty without you. Knowing he does not have much time, he begins barricading the bedroom door with everything he is capable of moving. So much adrenaline is coursing through his veins that he does not even need his staff to move around. This is your final warning.

You have 60 seconds to come out peacefully. Sergeant Reed is using her official voice once again. She has seen this scenario enough times to be confident of its outcome. In her experience, guys like Tommy never do things the easy. way. Tommy, I'm so frightened. It's okay, Grandma. I'm right here. They aren't getting in, I swear. But if they do, I want you to put me out of my misery. Promise me. But... Promise me. I'm 79 years old, God damn it. I've earned the right to choose where I die. I won't go with them. I won't. I promise. I swear, no matter what, they aren't taking you.

It is the hardest promise Tommy has ever made. But he steals himself, determined not to let down the only person who loves him. Seconds later, there are several loud crashes, wooden splinters and cracks as the doors are forced open, glass shatters as multiple windows are broken, and the debris crunches beneath a dozen pairs of boots as they march through the house. Every few seconds he hears voices calling out from different rooms, and each time it is a little closer, until finally the footsteps are just outside the barricaded door. Tommy, this is Officer Daniels again.

He pauses in case there was response, but none is forthcoming. I got that warrant you asked for. Do you think we can have a real conversation now? It's not too late to just open the door, you know. Grandma doesn't want to see you. Go away. Tommy is trying to sound intimidating, but he comes across as a scared, petulant child. You tell him, baby. There, you see? Did you hear her? She wants you gone.

Tommy absentmindedly strokes his 22, which is now back in his hand with the safety disengaged. He is not willing to fail. All right, we're coming in hard. I hope you're standing back. And Tommy, we've dealt with some pretty bad people over the years, so breaking into places this way tends to make us nervous. I really need you to have your hands in the air empty when we get this door open. You think you can do that for me?

Officer Daniel waits for a response, but again, there is only silence. Okay, then, here we go. Tommy stands against the opposite wall, feet planted, and gun raised towards the door. towards the door. The moment it begins to open, he expects to see Officer Daniel, but instead he is once again looking into the endless void of death's face. With a new wave of fresh fury, he fires, hitting the edge of the doorframe. The next events unfold instantaneously. Bullets rain through the small opening as Tommy leaps to the side, but he is too slow. He has hit three times before falling to the ground, where he watches the door explode inward as a team

of police pour through the opening. He hears Evelyn screams, but he can do nothing about it. He knows he has failed, and he is ready to die. In the final seconds of his life, he suddenly remembers what he saw when forced to peer into death's faceless void. It was this, the moment of his death. And in that darkness, he saw his father, his grandfather, his mother, and then finally, his grandmother. This knowledge only troubles him for a brief moment. As his last neurons cease to fire, Tommy's world falls into complete darkness, and his suffering is finally brought to an end.