The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S10E03

Episode Date: November 26, 2017

It's episode 03 of Season 10. On this week's show we have five tales about frenetic families and caustic communities. "The Good People of a Good Town"† written by S.H. Cooper and performed by Kyle Akers & Jesse Cornett & Peter Lewis & Nikolle Doolin & Dan Zappulla & Mike DelGaudio & Atticus Jackson & Erin Lillis & Jeff Clement & Matt Bradford. (Story starts around 00:05:45) "Call Me Gone"† written by M.J. Pack and performed by Jessica McEvoy & Erin Lillis & Addison Peacock. (Story starts around 00:19:25) "Wade’s Waiting Room"‡ written by Steven Elmore and performed by David Ault & Peter Lewis & Erika Sanderson & Nikolle Doolin & Erin Lillis & Mike DelGaudio. (Story starts around 00:40:10) "What Was in the Attic"† written by Lindsay Moore and performed by Atticus Jackson & Jessica McEvoy & Nichole Goodnight & Nikolle Doolin & Erika Sanderson & Erin Lillis & Peter Lewis. (Story starts around 01:20:15) "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star"¤ written by Olivia White and performed by Addison Peacock & Erin Lillis & Erika Sanderson & Nichole Goodnight. (Story starts around 02:02:20) Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast   Click here to learn more about the NoSleep Live Tour 2018   Click here to learn more about "Tales From the Public Domain"   Click here to learn more about The Big Loop   Click here to learn more about S.H. Cooper   Click here to learn more about M.J. Pack   Click here to learn more about Steven Elmore   Click here to learn more about Lindsay Moore   Click here to learn more about Olivia White   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone Audio adaptations produced by: Phil Michalski† & Jeff Clement‡ & Jesse Cornett¤ "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" illustration courtesy of Jen Tracy Audio program ©2017-2018 - Creative Reason Media Inc. - All Rights Reserved - No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors.   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Oh, bloody hell, they're coming this way. Quick, lock the doors. We're doomed, aren't we? The army of flesh-eating snowmen are going to rip us to shreds. Don't say that. There's still hope. You saw what they did to the neighbours. We're going to die,

and the last gift of our families will ever receive from us is underwear. I don't understand the problem. Millions of people give underwear every year. And millions of people receive it and think it's the worst gift of all time. But they smile and say, thank you, because they're polite, even if we can clearly see the disappointment in their eyes. We still give underwear to our family and loved ones who just don't want it. Oh God, they're on the lawn now.

They're throwing snowballs at the door. You know how they're going to remember us? I do. Remember John and Tammy? Remember the year of the snow apocalypse? All they could think Tobias was a bunch of socks and tidy whitties. Yeah, I remember. I'm glad they were slowly dismembered and eaten by those living snowmen.

Well, maybe it's not that underwear is the problem. Maybe it's the kind of underwear. the crappy, cheap, sweaty kind you pick out. Excuse me? Let me tell you about Meandis. It's the only underwear that makes for an amazing gift. Unlike the store brand junk you buy, I get the good stuff from meundies.com slash no sleep.

Their underwear is three times softer than cotton. Their waistbands, don't feel like barbed wire digging into your flesh. No, ma'am. It's soft and flexible for maximum comfort. Oh, it's the good stuff. And the fabric? It's made up of natural, sustainably sourced fibre. Yeah, that's right, Tammy.

I care about the environment too. How do you know all this? Because I've been wearing meandies for weeks now. I even bought you three pairs. They're under the tree. I need to see these for myself. They're soft. I bet Grandma Ethel would love these.

I bet your whole family would love them. Meundi's made underwear is the perfect gift that everyone is going to love you for. Everyone. Even man-eating snowmen? Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Open the door on three. I'll slingshot these right into their faces. One, two, three.

It worked. They're melting with love. It's a goddamn holiday miracle. This year, don't give underwear. Give me undies. This holiday season, to get your exclusive 20% off the softest underwear in socks you will ever wear, free shipping and a 100% satisfaction guarantee, go to meundies.com slash no sleep.

That's meundies.com slash no sleep. The following audio horror presentation is intended to frighten and disturb. Join us on this dark and unsettling journey at your own risk. Because behind these doors, there will be no sleep. Brace yourself for the No Sleep podcast. It's the No Sleep podcast. I'm David Cummings. for joining us. On the show this week, we have five tales about frenetic families and caustic communities. I want to recommend two treats for your eyes and ears this week. Lindsay Moore, frequent author

on the podcast, including this episode's fourth story, has recently published a horror comics anthology. It's called Tales from the Public Domain and contains 16 short, scary stories written and illustrated by men and women from around the world. Artists have taken their favorite public domain horror story and adapted it into comic format, breathing demonic new life into the works of Poe, Lovecraft, Gilman, Shelley, and many others. Check the show notes for links to the Hellcat Press release of Tales from the Public Domain. Classic Horror Never Looked So Good. And for your ears, I want to share a new podcast from Friend of the Show and Co-Chorred.

creator of the black tapes, Paul Bay. Paul is the writer, creator, creator of the Big Loop. It's a bi-weekly anthology series reaching into the outer edges of human experience. Each distinct episode highlights the strange, wonderful, and often harrowing experiences of those living on the outer edges of the known world. This show features outstanding acting, sound, and music, and creates a trippy vibe which is both unsettling and thought-provoking. Check out the first season of The Big Loop wherever you find podcasts and delve into stories of finite beings in an infinite universe. And speaking of podcast seasons, we're well into number 10 for us. It's episode three. The stories are ready, so let's start the journey. In our first tale, we learn of a town reeling from the shocking death of one of their own.

And as author S.H. Cooper explains, sometimes the thirst for justice can warp the best of intentions into dark deeds. Performing this tale are Kyle Acres, Peter Lewis, Nicole Doolin, Dan Zupula, Mike Delgado, Atticus Jackson, Jesse Cornett, Aaron Lillis, Jeff Clement, and Matthew Bradford. So if you listen to fools, the mob rules, even for the good people. of a good town. An idea destroyed my hometown. It wasn't a natural disaster or an illness or any other rational,

terrible but reasonable thing. It was an idea, and it started with Nettie Carter. She was my seventh grade science teacher, a woman who had obviously seen her life taking a very different path than the one she'd ended up on. She dressed like a slightly more conservative

Marilyn Monroe, wore her bottle blonde hair, and short curls, and was forever applying new layers of bubble gum pink lipstick in the middle of her lectures. The boys, and admittedly a few of their dads, were quite fond of her. The girls, and admittedly a few of their moms, far less so. Really, Nettie was a harmless thing, even if she probably had no business trying to be a teacher. She certainly didn't deserve what happened to her, or what became of her memory after. It was a Tuesday morning when our principal came into the room. His face gray and grim, and we immediately went quiet. Every kid knew not to get on Mr. Lawrence's bad side, and that day it looked like the only sight he had.

Students, I'm afraid I have some bad news. Miss Carter passed away unexpectedly last night. We will have a substitute for you soon. Until then, I will be taking over the class. We all traded surprised, uncertain glances after his announcement. How would she die? She hadn't been that old, probably not even 30 yet. Did she been sick? Although we wanted to know more, no one asked Mr. Lawrence for any more details. He wasn't the kind of person who took kindly to questions.

Big news travels fast in a small town, though. And by lunch, the popular rumor was that Ms. Carter hadn't just passed away. She'd been murdered. A farmer had found her body in his cornfield early that morning. Some people said she was naked. Others said she'd still been dressed. Others claimed they'd actually seen the body and she'd been somewhere in between.

Regardless of her state of dress, everyone could suddenly agree on one thing. Antoinette, Nettie Carter, had practically been a saint. She treated our children so well, tearful parents cried. She never had a bad word to say about anyone, her shell-shocked coworkers said.

She was a good, God-fearing woman, the pastor of our church proclaimed. All of the nitpickiness that had followed her in life, the little digs over her flirtatious nature and her two tight dresses was wiped clean. And overnight, she became the town's most beloved citizen. I asked my parents about it, wondering why all these people who thought of her as shallow and dim were now praising her, as if they'd personally known and loved her when she was alive.

It helps people feel better. They may not have liked her, but nobody deserves to grow up like that. And this is how they pay their respects. Why didn't they respect her when she was alive then? Wouldn't it have meant more if they were nicer while she was actually around to hear it? That's just how people are, baby. People, as it turned out, were also paranoid and afraid and dangerous. After Ms. Carter's death, there was a noticeable shift in the town's mood.

There hadn't been a murder in the area in almost three decades, and it shook everyone more than they cared to admit. The changes started off slow, just little things, like parents keeping a closer eye on their kids. kids when they played outside, or not letting them out after dark. Young women only went out in groups and never stayed far from populated places. The teachers at school stayed outside during recess instead of grading papers in the classroom. Everyone was more vigilant, even if they didn't want to acknowledge it.

Things got worse as the investigation into Ms. Carter's murder went on. The cops interviewed the farmer who found her, swept the field where her body had been left, and gathered what little evidence they could, none of which pointed them in any particular direction. They were starting to get frustrated. The townspeople were getting frustrated. And tempers started to flare. Missy Tomlinson accused Larry White of following her. Larry said she was being crazy. Susanna Creary claimed that Bud Dwyer had been looking at her funny. Bud said that was just a count of his crossed eyes. Lydia complained about Robbie, mildred about Bo, down the line, until it seemed like just about everyone was accusing everyone of doing

something wrong. The police were getting calls and running themselves ragged trying to keep up. That was when the idea started to take hold. The sheriff said over the radio. But we can't just keep pointing fingers at each other. We all know each other. This is a good town filled with good people. Everyone agreed. It was a good town. We were good people. And we did need someone to blame. The sheriff didn't know it at the time, but he'd planted a poisonous seed into very fertile ground. I was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework when I knocked came at the front door.

It had been a few months since Nettie Carter's murder, but I still wasn't allowed to answer the door after dark. Only dad could do that. I heard him get up from his easy chair and open the door. He talked quietly to someone for a moment and then closed it again. Who was there? That was Mike. He wants me to go down to the bar. It's a weeknight.

You have work tomorrow. The kids have school. What is he thinking coming around? at this hour. Says they got a fellow there who's been acting mighty suspicious. Suspicious? What's that supposed to mean? They think he might know something about the Carter woman.

Mom lowered her voice, probably in the hopes that I wouldn't hear. Then they should call Sheriff Lyons. They tried, but he let him go. Then they should leave it alone. Mike said they got a good hunch that this could be the guy. He's a drifter, but he seemed to know a lot about Nettie. Well, she wasn't all the papers. I'm going to go.

I just want to check it out. Sidney. I won't be long. I just want to see what all the fuss is about. Before mom could argue further, I burst into the living room and grabbed my dad by his wrist. Can I go? It sounded so exciting. If the drifter really was the guy who killed Miss Carter, I wanted to see him get arrested.

I don't think so. Come on, Rita. If the boy wants to go, let him. It's not a good idea. Dad waved her off in motioned for me to follow him. We hopped in the Buick. and pulled out of the driveway while Mom glared after us from the front window. By the time we arrived at the bar, a small crowd had already gathered.

They were standing in a semicircle around the front of the building where a man was cowering with his back to the wall. Now you stick close to me, boy. We got out of the car to hear someone shouting. What did you do to her? I didn't do nothing. Dad shouldered his way to the front of the crowd and I followed dutifully behind, until we were just about face to face with a drifter man. He was dressed in dirty, oversized overall.

and had dusty sunburned skin, the kind you get from living most of your life outside. His watery eyes were darting around and he kept licking his lips anxiously. I almost felt sorry for him, but everyone else seemed angry. You think you can come here and kill one of our women? I hate done that. You were in town then, weren't you? I was out at the Pfeiffer's farm. I was doing planning work for them.

Just ask! The more he tried to defend himself, the angrier the crowd became. The air was electric, frightening. And I looked at my father for reassurance. He put a hand on my shoulder and stared straight ahead. Murderer! The cry was picked up by most of the crowd. I didn't!

You're the only stranger who's been through since then. But I didn't! You say in one of us, Kilder? One of our own? A beer bottle caught the drifter under his eye and he fell back, clutching at his face. He's a liar. Murderer! He killed Nettie!

I swallowed hard, a queasy feeling starting to turn in my stomach, and Dad tightened his grip on my shoulder. You're going to pay for what you did, boy. Mr. Thornton, the owner of the local grocery store and a bar regular, sneered at the drifter and gave him a hard kick to his gut. The man doubled over with a pained gas. Somebody go into the bed of my truck and get that length of rope I got there. What are they doing to him, Dad?

Some of the gathered people started to dig around in the messy back end of Mr. Thornton's pickup. A few rocks sailed toward the cowering man and he whimpered with every strike. Dad squared his shoulders and grit his teeth, but he didn't answer. Dad? He looked down at me, and there was a confusing mix of emotion on his face. He looked angry and sad and unsure all at once, and it frightened me. They're going to teach him a lesson, son. Mr. Thornton and three other men, one with a length of coiled ropes,

over his shoulder started to drag the drifter away from the bar towards the nearby oak tree. The drifter was shrieking and crying and my skin crawled even as the other started to mock and jeer. The end of the rope was tossed up and sailed over the lowest branch. You're still going to deny it. Please, I didn't. I wouldn't. A damp spot had appeared on the front of the drifter's overalls. Who else would it have been?

Pretty dumby you to stick around thinking we wouldn't figure it out. Please! As the rope was nodded into a news, The Drifter's legs gave out and he sagged between the men still holding him. I heard him start to mumble the Lord's prayer in a quavering voice. Jesus isn't going to help a murderer. Another chorus of murderer ripped through the crowd. I clung to the hem of my father's shirt and half buried my face in his side.

Why wasn't Dad doing anything to stop this? Why wasn't anybody? We might have been on the edge of the town, but it was by no means deserted. But no one made a move to help the sobbing drifter. As the noose was put over his head, Mr. Thornton pushed a beefy finger into his chest. The sheriff may have let you go, but we know better. Your kind coming to our good towns, with our good people,

and you think you can get away with doing whatever you want? Because of you, poor Nettie's mother had to bury her only child. The man closed his eyes and kept repeating the same phrase over again. He was still saying it when the men started to pull on the rope, tightening the noose around his neck and lifting him from the ground. His words turned into strained gargles, and his whole body jerked and swung as his face purpled beneath its dust and grind. His watery eyes grew wide and fat. I thought they might burst.

While he struggled helplessly, feudally, the crowd of good people from our good town cheer. When the final spasm subsided, Mr. Thornton cut him down and had the body loaded up into the back of his truck. I'll take care of him. He said proudly and grinned as he was thanked. Dad and I got back into the Buick and drove home in silence. Neither of us ever spoke of that night again. No one in the town did. They wanted to pretend that it hadn't happened.

That it had been some other town filled with other people who had murdered a man just because he was an outsider. I was never able to look at any of them the same way again, especially my father. Our relationship was never the same. Mom just acted like she didn't know what happened. I guess it was easier that way. I was haunted by visions of the drifter's face, his voice, his cries of innocence for many years. When I was old enough, I left and went as far away as I could, hoping that time and distance would help the memory fade.

I was never able to go back. As a kid, I'd loved the small town life. I knew everyone. It felt safe. I was home. But then, Nettie Carter was murdered, and an idea took over. The idea that we were good people who wouldn't have hurt an innocent person. that it had to be them, an other, someone who wasn't us, and we, the good people, wanted revenge.

The love and safety I'd once felt was torn away from me, and suddenly I felt like I was the other in this familiar, but terrible and strange place, and it was never home to me again. An idea destroyed my hometown, and now only monsters and a murdered man remain. Living in the country can be a refreshing change from the hustle and bustle of the city. And as author M.J. Pack shares with us, when a friend extends an invitation to be joined in her bucolic splendor, we learn that there can be secrets under the stars. Performing this tale are Jessica McAvoy, Aaron Lillis, and Addison Peacock. So when it's time to leave, there's only one thing to do. Call me Gone. July 12, 1989.

Today is a great day. Mama said that Sandra could come stay with us for a week. I am very excited because Sandra has been sad on the phone lately. Whenever I talk to her, she sounds funny, all throat choked and stuffy like she's been crying. I think her house isn't a very happy place these days, and so I decided to ask Mama if she could come here, because our house is very happy.

All the time. Mama smiled her beautiful smile at me, the one that makes her cheeks soft at the edges, and said yes, Sandra could come stay with us. I called her right away, and it made my heart feel warm to hear Sandra sounding happier already. She said she's never stayed out in the country before. She's used to sleeping in the city where the streetlights never turn off, and there's always dogs barking or horns honking. I can't wait for her to hear the stillness at night, the sweet songs of crickets in the grass and locusts in the trees. I bet she's never seen as many stars as I have.

I will show her the constellations like Mama taught me. Virgin Mary and the resurrection and God's remnant. We are going to have such fun. July 15, 1989. Sandra is staying in my room. I cleared out a few drawers in my dresser so she could put her clothes away, even though she said she didn't need them. Mama teaches us to be kind to others, to sacrifice what you have so they can have too. Sandra kept saying she didn't need a drawer.

She could just use her suitcase, but I waited until she went to the bathroom and unpacked for her. She met Mama first. Mama came out on the porch when she arrived and greeted her with a big hug. She kissed Sandra's cheek. We're so happy to have you here, Sandra. That was nice, but that's how Mama is. And I could tell Sandra really needed some niceness. She pretended to be embarrassed and thanked Mama very politely.

Mama liked that. She prides us on our good manners. Mama introduced Sandra to my brothers and sisters. I kept quiet because I could tell Mama wanted to make a very good impression. First Sandra met Gloria, working away at her sewing machine with that scrunched-up face she makes. Gloria is the oldest, so she gets to pick her chores. But I don't know why she always picks sewing. Sewing hurts my hands.

After Gloria was Jacob. He was chopping firewood in the backyard, stockpiling for when it gets cold. In the winter, it gets very, very cold. And I am very happy that Jacob chops the wood for us. when December comes, and I'm warming my chilly fingers by the fire. Jacob stopped chopping wood to say hello. He was all sweaty, wiping at his forehead with his knuckles and panting heavy. Sometimes Jacob works himself too hard, but it's because he wants to show Mama he can step

up as the man of the house. Sandra was giving him a funny look, and I think it's because he wasn't wearing a shirt. Carolyn and Marcelline didn't pay Sandra much attention. But they're real shy. I told Sandra they'd warm up to her. The first night we stayed up late, giggling and telling each other all the stuff that's happened since we last saw each other at school.

She was so happy at first. But the more she talked, the sadder she got. She said there's lots of fighting at her house now, yelling, crying. One time someone threw a picture frame and there was glass everywhere. When she got up the next day, it hadn't been cleared away, and Sandra stepped on a shard, cutting her heel very badly.

She showed me the bottom of her foot. It was an awful cut. It looked like it hurt a lot. I hugged her for a long time and told her what was in my heart, because Mama always says we must say what is in our hearts. I told her I was glad she could. came. July 17th, 1989. We have been having so much fun. I've hardly had time to write. I'm so happy my friend is here. I showed Sandra so many things. I showed her the nest of rabbits near the woodpile.

I showed her how the well works and how sweet the water from it tastes. And of course, I showed her the stars, Like I said I would. At first she could barely breathe. She didn't say anything. Finally, Sandra said. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. She's right. It really is beautiful.

The sky at night is like a velvet black bolt of cloth, studded with so many diamonds you can't even count. But she's wrong about one thing. Mama is the most beautiful. It was Mama who taught me how to look at the stars and find meaning there to see the signs as they are shown to us. One day, I'll show Sandra this too. July 19, 1989. Mama spent a lot of time on the phone today.

She was talking to her friend in town with a very worried look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me, not. unkindly, to take Sandra outside. We sat in the grass for a while, soaking up the sunshine and listening to the birds sing as they dipped up and down in the sky like leaves in the wind. Sandra said she wasn't used to life without television, and I told her that Mama said television corrupts what is pure inside us. She wrinkled her nose at me and said Mama didn't know what she was missing. That made me a little mad at her. I guess.

Sandra sighed and said if we couldn't watch television, then we should at least do something fun, like go into the woods at the edge of our property to explore. Maybe we could see some animals, she said. Right away, I said no. The woods aren't allowed. The woods are forbidden. If we were playing a game, the woods would be out of bounds.

This made her interested. Why can't we go in the woods? I was careful at first. I said Mama had rules. There weren't a lot of rules, but they were important to follow because Mama knew best about these sorts of things. I told her, Mama is good, but Mama can be hard. Like no television and the chores? I said yes.

Those are some of the rules. And so is not going into the woods. But by then she was all. All worked up, wanting to know why, asking what would be so bad if we went into the woods. Mama had warned me about this. She said that people who don't live in our happy house might try to test boundaries because they're not used to the way things are. It was important to stay pure and not be let astray. So I told her the rest.

Sandra got all quiet and didn't ask about the woods again. I felt bad because she was. finally starting to seem like she might be happy, but I had to warn her. It was important. When we went back inside, Mama was still on the phone. I got Marcelline and Carolyn to start washing the vegetables for supper, because it seemed like Mama might be busy for a while. Sandra helped chop the carrots, but she was quiet the whole time, probably thinking about the woods. I know I thought about the woods a lot at first. I am writing this in the dark, so my handwriting may be sloppy, but I needed to tell someone

because Sandra is asleep. A few minutes ago, I heard people talking in the living room, very quiet and whispery, the way you talk when you don't want someone else to hear. I thought maybe it was Carolyn and Marcelline, sharing their little secrets like they sometimes do. But then I saw Jacob walk past my room. my head down real quick so he wouldn't see that I saw. Then there was a tap, tap, tap on Mama's door. It peaked again, but I couldn't see from my bed. I thought about getting up and decided that was a bad idea. Mama and Jacob talked. More quiet hush talk. The door closed again. Then I heard other sounds, not so quiet this time. I do not know what the

this means. July 20th, 1989. I tried to tell Sandra about Jacob and Mama, but she is somewhere else in her head today. She says she's homesick. She misses her family. Sandra is part of our family now. Can't she see that? In our happy house, no one is fighting or yelling or breaking glass? It's always warm and the food is good and Mama loves us so much. I bet Sandra just misses her stupid television shows. That was unkind of me. I am sorry I wrote it, but I am using a pen and the damage is done. A plane crashed yesterday. A lot of people died, but not all of them. Mama said her friend in town told her all about it and that it was a sign. Sandra said sometimes bad things just happen.

Mama didn't like that so much, and she gave Sandra one of her hard looks. There will be more signs. This is just the first of many. We will hear him calling soon. Maybe this is why Jacob went to Mama last night? It is very exciting. Sandra rolled her eyes, though. I can tell she doesn't believe, and for that she should be more careful.

If I can tell, then chances are, Mama already knows. July 21, 1989. Sandra is supposed to leave tomorrow. She doesn't know that no one is coming for her yet. July 22, 1989. I can hear Sandra crying in the bedroom. It hurts my heart, but she needs to understand. stand. This is her home now, and no amount of crying will change that. This morning she got

already, standing on the porch with her bags, looking expectantly out at the dirt road that winds its way towards our house. I wanted to tell her not to wait, that if she waited for someone to come, that she'd be waiting forever, but Mama said I couldn't. Mama said the waiting is part of the process. Her hope must be broken before we can fix her. Around lunchtime, Sandra came in, still holding her backs. When is Mama's friend coming to pick me up? I thought it was this morning. I shrugged and tried not to look at her face. Mama's friend in town only drops them off. She doesn't pick them up. We all know this by now. Sandra waited on the the porch until it got dark. When she came into the living room, I saw that she was pale.

Where the fuck is the driver? Gloria covered her ears. We do not speak that way in this family. I'm done with this hippie-dippy bullshit. Gloria stood up and shewed Carolyn and marcelling into the kitchen, away from Sandra's impure words. I'm out in the middle of nowhere, and I need a ride. If your friend's not not coming? Call me a cab. I was getting scared. Sometimes they are angry, but Sandra was madder than I'd ever seen. Do you really want to go back to that? To the city where you breathe in more poison than air? To the constant assault of by this, buy that, to the husband who sleeps around and blames you for your anger towards him? You don't get to talk about my husband. I knew then that Mama had touched a nerve.

Things are pure here. Things are simple. Everywhere else you can barely hear yourself think. But here, we will hear him calling us home as clear as a bell, and we will hear him soon. I'm leaving. Mama looked at Jacob. Jacob nodded and went towards Sandra. Before she could think to bolt, he had his arms around her tight, lifting Sandra off her feet. She kicked and screamed, but Jacob is very strong from cutting wood,

and he got her into my bedroom closet with not much effort at all. When Mama saw that I was crying, she pulled me into her chest, stroking my hair. She reminded me that salvation is often met with defiance. I told her I understood, but it was so hard to listen to Sandra screaming in there. I know I shouldn't have diary, but... I was very worried about Sandra, so when I was sure everyone was asleep, I crept from my bed and knocked quietly on the closet door. She had been screaming for so long that when she stopped, I was very worried. Sandra's voice was hoarse, throat choked and stuffy like from before, from when she lived in the city with her mean man husband.

It made me so sad to hear her sound that way again. I thought this was a retreat. You told me this was a retreat. It's a retreat from the unholy. I was trying to make her feel better, but then she sounded angry instead of sad. You're out of your fucking mind. That made me mad, too.

She shouldn't use those words. They are impure. She should be happy to be here with Mama and me. You belong in there. I said it in a mean voice to hurt her, because Sandra didn't understand the gift I had given. She didn't understand I had saved her from herself, from her husband who yelled all the time, and probably didn't love her anymore, from the stinky air of the city, from a job she didn't like. It is pure and beautiful here, and she looked at this gift and spat on it, spat on my kindness,

on Mama's kindness. I went back to bed and didn't unlock the door. I suppose I had thought about it, but Sandra changed my mind. I mean it. She belongs in there. August 2nd, 1989. Sandra is very quiet now. I have not heard her in days.

Mama is preparing our dinner. our last dinner. Gloria will get hers first because she is the oldest and will go the quickest. Then the twins who have to do everything together. Then me,

then Mama, then Jacob. She said Jacob must be the last because he is the strongest and can handle any of us if we fight our calling home. I have a secret. This morning,

before anyone else was always, awake, I called my husband. I have my own mean man husband who lives in the city, but I am weak, and I wanted to speak to him one last time. When he answered the phone, he started crying. He begged me to come home. He said, our son misses me so much. He misses me so much. He had wanted me to go clear my head at this nature retreat, because that is what we are told to tell our loved ones. It's just a nature retreat. But that six months was long enough, and he was worried, and I should come home. I told him I was going home. Today, we heard him calling, and when he calls, we are to go to him. It's what Mama has spent all this time teaching us. He tried to

put Brian on the phone, but I hung up. I knew if I heard my son's voice, I couldn't make the righteous choice I needed to make. I'll tell you another secret. I know there is nothing in the woods. Not really. I know it's just a story to keep people from leaving on their own. The story changes depending on who you tell it to. You tell them what will scare them the most. For Sandra, It was wolves. I told her there were a pack of them because I knew she was afraid of dogs after being bitten as a little girl.

But Mama, she knew I would never leave her side, and so she told me the truth. She told me it was my job to bring new family members and my job to keep them here. But so far they have all ended up in the closet, just like Sandra. Mama has a favorite song, you know. It's a nice one, a holy one.

In it, a man with a deep voice says, Call me anything, but when he calls, call me gone. I like that song very much. Mama is calling me. She is calling, and he is calling, and I have to stop writing now. I hope that our new home is as happy as this one has been. Call me gone.

When the inevitable end of a parent's life confronts us, most people drop everything to be by their side. But as we learn from author Stephen Elmore, one man has challenges to face when it comes to the last moments of his mother's life, challenges which lead to some questionable decisions. Performing this tale are David Alt, Peter Lewis, Erica Sanderson, Nicole Doolin,

Aaron Lillis and Mike Delgado. So let's meet the man sitting in Wade's waiting room. Wade sat in the waiting room, his head cradled in his hands. He'd fought tooth and nail for his whole life to avoid crying in front of strangers. So much for that, right? Here he was, bawling his eyes out, in public even. He felt a gaping. whole in his mind and his heart, but the surrounding world took no notice. And why would it?

It was his mum who was gone, not the rest of the words. So he cried, because what else could he do? She was the one who'd always been there, after his divorce, both of them, and after his stint in rehab, all four of them. My God, he thought, she must have been so disappointed. And who knows? Maybe she'd have lived longer without the stress he caused. He was sure of it. He remembered her face when he saw her for the last time.

She smiled. Not one of those forced smiles, but a real smile. She was actually glad to see him. for once he got to return the favour he got to be the one there for her but it was only at the end he felt his head sink farther into his hands they were tear-soaked but he didn't care he just hoped all eyes weren't on him that would make it even worse but at least there was a tv in this waiting-room Bouting out the recent news, a welcome distraction. The stations were robbed at gunpoint last night, yet the details and safety tips tonight at 11. Also, rain clouds might be moving your way.

Stay tuned. And as always, thanks for watching Channel 8 News, where trust is a must. God, what he wouldn't have given to trade places. I waited for you. Her words stuck in his head like a knife. I waited for you. Not two minutes later, she was gone. She got hospitalized three days ago while he was working out of town.

And somehow, it was true. She waited. She waited the three days right up until he walked into her room. What if it took him even longer to see her? She'd still be alive, right? His tears slowed and he bawled his fists. He knew the family was waiting downstairs. He knew they saw her first.

They had their time to make their peace with her passing. He imagined the family talking about him while they waited impatiently. He imagined Uncle Thomas saying, I don't know what she even sees in that boy. He's been in rehab. What? Three times? Four? I don't know what she's ever done to deserve a boy like him. His aunt Michelle might respond. Rehab. You think that's the worst of it? She was a good Christian woman,

cursed with a son who got divorced. Twice. His trembling lips scrunched together. Fuck them, he thought. They never had to live his life. They didn't know what it was like. Now that his mother was gone, he hoped to never see the rest of his family again. Even never sounded too soon. Fuck them. Fuck who? Or is it whom?

Always hard to say. It was a confident, sharp voice, but shrill. It startled Wade, and he sat upright and looked to his left. His eyes were deeply red from the crying and his face was pink, dampened with countless tears. The older woman was sitting in the chair next to him. How didn't he notice her when she sat down? Wouldn't he have felt the air from it? Or heard it? Then again, he thought maybe not. He'd been a little busy, weeping. Nobody. He studied her. She looked him up and down quickly. Her voice sounded 30 at most. She looked in her 50s.

but he suspected that the truth would aim even higher, much higher. And she was smirking. Her smiling face looked completely alien in a hospital's waiting room. Yet here she was. She let out a sound first. She shook her head and smiled wider. No, honey, you meant it. Like somebody deserved to get fucked.

Not in the nice way, mind you. Somehow through the tears, he let out the faintest laugh. I thought that might help you. So tell me, what fuckers are you talking about? He smiled again and shook his head. As crazy as it was to admit it, he was glad he happened across this lady. She reminded him of his mother. not like she was a doppelganger or something.

Hell, they didn't act alike or have much in common. They just both treated him like a person. That was more than he could say for anyone else he'd met. It's just my family. He pointed at the room in front of him. She, my mom, she just... His head fell to his hands before he knew it was happening. The woman put an arm around him.

And your family downstairs believes you weren't a good enough child for your mama, huh? Her words stilled his tears. Confusion became the primary emotion, beating out sadness by an inch. His questioning eyes looked up to hers, and he wiped his tears. How do you know? I've been around life and death a very long time. If there's one thing, I understand, it's people. How to read them, like the morning's paper.

And if there's one thing in this world, I dislike most its people. Judgmental, selfish little shits, most of them. Wade smiled, but didn't quite laugh. She rubbed his back and it gave him the feeling of strange comfort. He felt uneasy having turned to a stranger. But he didn't know what else to do. That's what scared him most. The feeling of being alone.

I'm Lila. No need to keep on being strangers. Wade. Well, it's nice to meet you, Wade. She pointed to the room ahead. So tell me about your mama. Wade drew in a breath and shook his head. She was the best mom anyone could ask for.

She deserved better. His head dropped. His gaze falling to the floor. Shit, she was just as human as you, Wade. He shook his head. You don't understand. She has been there for me my whole life. She better have been.

That's a mama's job. What she's supposed to do anyway. If she wasn't there, she'd have been a piss poor mother. Well, I mean, yeah, but... But nothing. She had two decades on you at least, and she brought you into this world. Of course you're going to make mistakes along the way. You were the child.

She was the adult. I've been in rehab four times. Wade didn't realize he was getting defensive of his poor self-image. Lila smiled wider, her cheeks bawling up. What? You think that's a record or something? He laughed again, just a little. No, I guess not.

But still. Still nothing. Are you clean now? Yeah. I mean, yes, ma'am, two years. But it was my fault. Her heart gave out. It was from the stress I caused.

I just... He trailed off, thinking of the last words. his mum said. I waited for you. What's on your mind, Wade? She sounded genuine, but there was a hint of impatience. He looked at her, his eyes sad and his mouth hanging slightly open. She waited.

She stared, waiting for a further explanation. She lowered her head and raised her eyebrows again, urging him to speak without having ask. She waited for me to get here before, you know, then she was just... A small smile crept up on Lila's face. The human will is an impressive force. The mama needed to see her baby one last time. He buried his face in his hands again and shook back and forth.

He mumbled something but his hands muffled it. She didn't speak, but just sat silently. Her arm still around weighed. He dropped his hands and spoke again. I shouldn't have come. She'd still be here. This is all my fault. He looked over to Lila and saw that her eyes were on him, skeptical.

Still miserably waiting for you? Sure, you're probably right. She'd still be sitting in that room right there. But what kind of life? would that be? Waiting in a hospital bed to see your son before you cash in your chips and him denying you even that. Maybe, but I wouldn't have come. She'd still be here. I can't imagine she'd have been too happy about that way. Hell, angry even. It doesn't matter anyway. It can never happen. She's gone. Lila laughed. As the cliche goes,

Never say never, honey. Wade straightened her back and looked at her. The tears felt to drift away, drying themselves. What do you mean? Lila raised a hand into the air dismissing it, only it looked more like a caution. Oh, nothing. That explained her demeanor, though, didn't it?

Her light tone, her smiles in a hospital. He thought about it quickly and convinced. himself, she was different somehow. There was something special about Lila. If you can help, please do it. Her lips pressed together and she tilted her head sideways before speaking to him. Believe me, it wouldn't be what you want. Change in the past is never the best thing to do. I know, honey, I've seen it. Maybe you have, but I haven't. Lila smiled wide. No, I suppose you haven't.

Wade stared at her. Excitement flooded his mind like a monsoon. He thought of Lila's words and nothing else. Never say never, honey. You can send me back, can't you? The surrounding waiting room was vacant except for the television, still on Channel 8. The look Lila returned him was blank. You don't listen, do you?

I'm trying to make you appreciate the laugh you and your mama had together, Wade. Lila's eyes surveyed him while she spoke, noting his reactions. He ignored it. She could take him back. His mother could live. Look, I appreciate everything that she has done for me. And if I can return that favor now, there is nothing that can stop me. I am the reason she died, and I want to be the reason she can live.

Lila put a hand on her forehead and leaned back in her seat. Don't you wonder why you've been to rehab and gotten divorced? The words cut right through his excitement and put him on guard. His body inched to the right to get away from her, even just a little. His eyes narrowed and the stare he gave Lila grew intense. You? She leaned her head toward him. Don't listen.

Wade laughed. That was a massive relief to his mind and his nerves. He thought she was about to go full Dr. Phil on him with some roughly pieced together assessment of his actions. Oh, that's never been my strong suit. Color me surprise. There was a slight hint of a grin on the edges of her lips. Wade smiled at her.

Can you do it? Can you send me back? Lila sighed. She looked at the floor and clasped her hands together. Things like that don't come for free. Wade gulped. What does that mean? It means you don't just get to keep living life like any other day.

Your life will be defined by this decision, Wade. And your mother's too. Nerves overtook him like microscopic frozen hands crawling up his back. Wade squirmed and winced and he heard his mum's words again. I waited for you. I don't care. He watched Lila and she didn't move. After a couple of seconds, he repeated himself.

You hear me? I don't care. I'll do whatever it takes. No. She looked at him, her gaze cold. Wade nearly shivered just seeing her. I don't think you will. I think you'll slip up. Wade shook his head in confusion. What are you talking about? I'll do anything.

Oh? Lila put a hand on his shoulder and looked intently into his eyes. This shit is permanent. If you tell me you want to go back in time to keep your mama alive by no. not visit him. You'll have to do just that. You can't visit. Only death can end the arrangement, Wade. You're going to wake up and you'll have a hard time remember in all of this. It'll feel like a dream to you, but to her it will never have happened. Her words choked him. The room felt like it was getting smaller. His pulse kicked up and he could feel it thumping in the side of his neck. He gulped.

One sentence burned in his mind like Napal. Only death can end the arrangement. Only death. The words felt powerful as they resonated in his mind. They felt imminent. Still, you'll have to resist. Your body's going to want to take you right to the hospital, and it may do just that.

You might not even think about it. Wade stood there, silent, staring. His mouth hung open just a little, and his eyes blank. I waited for you. Wade? Lila bobbed her head from side to side looking at him. Wade. I waited for you.

Hello, Wade. She was snapping her fingers in his face now. I waited for you. He mumbled something, and she asked him. him to repeat it. I said, I'll do it, whatever it takes. But she just kept looking at him, staying silent, her hand on his shoulder. Her lips pressed together and she kept her gaze.

Her eyes studied him, seemed to question him. Are you sure it's what you want to do? You'll wake up tomorrow, having already missed today's visit. She's going to be angry already, Wade. You can't visit her, no matter how mean she gets, no matter how much you doubt this deal happened. Her voice sounded completely monotonous. For a moment, her eyes didn't even look human. Wade's mind saw these things, but he ignored them. He'd have plenty of time to regret that later. Mean?

Wade remembered the looks his mum gave after the rehab visits. Lila just looked at him and read her. raised an eyebrow again. You know already, the look said. I waited for you. Lila reached out of hand, the near-universal sign of the all-powerful deal. He shook it. For the first time, he noticed just how cold she was.

Like he just shook hands with a corpse who vacationed in an industrial refrigerator. Goodbye, Wade. Goodbye. What are you talking about? She turned and walked down the hallway of the hospital. And he watched her until she was out of sight, his mouth wide open and his eyes just staring. Fuck was she going. Wade shook his head and dropped it back to his hands.

Lila got his hopes up, then left him. He felt yet again, completely and utterly alone. He closed his eyes and shook his head. The distinct, annoying shriek of an alarm clock sounded to Wade's right. He jolted upwards his hands dropping from his face. The clock was on the nightstand to his right, and he was in bed in a tank top and his boxes. A dream, he thought.

Just a dream. Wade looked around the room and gathered his thoughts. He smiled. He was in. the bed. When he closed his eyes, he was sitting in the hospital waiting room, but now he was in the bed. This was the bed in the cheap motel, the one he stayed in just before visiting the hospital, before visiting her. Either he was dreaming or Lila hadn't lied after all. Maybe she really did send him back. Or did she? He felt really tired.

Like he just woke up. The sheets were ruffled and the pillow was indented. He had slept there. Oh, God, he was so confused. He pressed a button on his phone and saw the notification on the unlock screen. New message. He entered his passcode, the month and year of his mother's birthday, 1162. The message appeared before him.

Remember, honey, this was a deal. I honored my end. You stay out of that hospital. Wade dropped his phone onto the bed and drew in a deep breath. He eased himself down onto his back and smiled. I won't, he thought. I'll stay away and she'll stay alive. But even then, he knew that was a lie.

He heard the phone vibrate again and he sat up. The green phone icon appeared showing an incoming call. The three letters chilled his back. blood for the first time in his life. Incoming call from Mum. Hello? He heard her voice call his name, oblivious to her cold tone, and it warmed him. His soul had longed to hear her speak again. Mom, I am so happy to hear from you. You have no idea. She stayed silent a few seconds before responding. Wade didn't mind. He was smiling, ecstatic. She was back.

Where were you, Wade? She sounded worried, brimming on furious. You told me you'd be here yesterday. Oh, God, he thought, right, the hospital. I'm around, Mom, but listen, something happened and it... It can wait, right? Something happened and it can wait? The frustration in her voice was growing, intensifying.

and why wouldn't it? She was on a fucking hospital bed waiting to see her only kid. Your own mother is in the hospital. Where did you forget that? It's not that simple, Mom. Just let me explain, please. Wade heard her let out a deep sigh, annoyed. Fine.

In that moment, Wade understood what Lila meant. How was he going to explain to his mother what happened? that she died, then some lady in the waiting room sent him back under the condition that he couldn't visit her. Even he wasn't sure it happened, and maybe it didn't. Wade looked at the alarm clock. A question came to his mind and he couldn't shake it. What if he was wrong? What if the alarm clock had woken him up? What if he only dreamed Lila, dreamed it all? What if nothing was keeping him from visiting his mother?

That would make a happy, right? If only he had proof. That doesn't sound like explaining to me. His mum's voice startled him. He'd forgotten she was on the phone. Wait, he thought. That's it. The phone, Lila's text message.

Just a sec, Mom. He looked at the screen and pressed the home button. What are you doing, Wade? His mum's flustered voice sounded distant in the low volume. He tapped the yellow envelope icon. Messages. Empty. Absolutely empty.

Wade laughed. Either Lila never sent a message or he deleted it and he didn't delete it. He was seeing things. It really was a dream, wasn't it? It's empty. Believe it. Empty. He put the phone back to his ear and opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke first.

Empty. Wade, you're using again, aren't you? Her voice was cold and accusatory. He remembered the last time she spoke like that. She'd found a burned spoon after he'd sworn on his father's grave that he was clean. But he wasn't using anymore. he was finally clean and she was alive. All was finally good. He'd finally made the right decision. Wade laughed. No, Mom, I'm clean. His blood turned to ice in his veins. His mind was taken back to the guilt of coming home.

The guilt he felt each time he walked out of a rehab clinic, holding his duffel bag and searching the parking lot Burkhar. He remember the look she always sported then, her lips drawn and teeth gritting. He remembered the way her eyes judged him, accused him, resented him. I'm clean. Do you think I'm stupid, Wade? I mean, seriously, do you take me for an idiot? Wade's face scrunched and he fought back tears. Mom, I... You tell me, Wade, what have I done to you to deserve this? Have I been that bad of a mother? Have I filled you so badly that you'd abandon me now?

This is the only time in your life that I've been the one to ask you for something. That's just it, Mom. I haven't abandoned you. I promise, I haven't. He was speaking quickly, trying to get the words out between the sobs. He felt the tears coming. He knew it. And once that happened, she wouldn't listen to him. She never did.

Men don't cry, she always said. He'd always let her down in that department, too. I just don't get it, Wade. Please, help me understand. I've tried my best to be there for you when you needed it. I know, Mom, I know. You have been the best. And when I need you one time, that's too much. much. Wade wanted to vomit, to throw up all over the fugly motel carpet.

Feelings he'd forgotten were being dug up. He loved her for the way she accepted him, but he never knew she hated him. He remembered walking into her hospital room and he remembered the smile. I waited for you, she had said. Or did she? Maybe that was the dream. Maybe he only wished his mother loved him. He sobbed and another tear fell from his eye. He'd forgotten to say anything back. She'd been stewing in the silence. Forget it.

Go spend time with your druggie friends. Just remember, I won't be here next time. Your 28 days are up, okay? He gulped. He managed two words before she hung up on him. I'm close. The line disengaged. I'm clean.

I'm clean! Wade looked down to the phone. The screen was skewed like a kaleidoscope through the tears. He searched again under messages and found nothing. He gripped his phone tightly with both hands and lowered himself onto the bed, his head burying itself in the pillow. It was as soggy as a sponge in no time. But he didn't notice.

Just as Lila said, Wade moved absently. His body carried him while his mind paid no attention. He was living in the phone conversation. He'd worked harder at getting clean than anything in his life. He wanted to stay clean for her, and now she didn't even believe it. Bullshit, she'd said. And why would she believe it? How many times did he promise her tears in his eyes and snot running down his face that it would be the last time?

She wouldn't believe him. Then he'd keep promising until, OK, fine, she believed him. Then he'd cry some more and thank her. And in days, or sometimes hours, he'd have relapsed again. God, he thought, that must have been so stressful. I was stressful. I killed her. Wade pulled into the parking space and his feet carried him through the long hospital halls

while self-loathing dwelt in his mind like an unwelcome squatter in the depths of his sanity. Wade was tired, tired of being a disappointment, tired of his family's judging eyes, tired of being the underdog who never won. He needed one win, just one. If he could make her happy, he could be happy. He knew it. Wade reached the waiting room before he had time to wonder where he was headed. He pulled the phone from his pocket and looked for Lila's message again just in case. Nothing. But he remembered what it said.

Remember, honey, this was a deal. I honoured my end. You stay out of that hospital. But what did it matter? It was a dream. Hell, even if it was real, what could she do to wait? How could she hurt him in a way his own mother hadn't already? How could she punish him more than he already punished himself? He slid the phone back into his pocket and stepped into the doorway of room 406. The bland beige walls looked grey with darkness peering in through the windows.

A lamp was on, giving off faint illumination near the bed, casting the white bedding in a warm orange hue. His mother was covered completely by the blankets, except for her head, her dark curls hanging freely above the covers, shrouding her small face. She looked up at him, and her eyes narrowed. I guess you decided to come after all. She smirked, but it wasn't a smile. It felt insulting, like she just got a one-up on him. Why did everything have to be a game? Wade stayed silent.

He leaned against the doorway, his legs and arms crossed. After a few seconds, she looked up at him again. What's wrong with you? Her accusing voice cut through him, but he tried not to show it. Can we not do this, please? He shook his head and looked at the floor. You're right, Wade. She smiled, and he looked at her, hopeful.

Let's just tell these nice doctors not to let me die now, since it's so inconvenient for you. Maybe there's a miracle they've been holding in their back pockets, and they just haven't pulled it out yet. She pulled herself up further in the bed and sighed. Wade stepped further into her room and sat in the chair. He fixed his eyes on her face, even though he desperately wanted to look away. I don't know what your problem with me is today, but I'm here. I'm here for you.

Can we please stop the attacks? Jesus. She laughed. For the first couple of seconds, he thought that it was awkward, but then he laughed too. She kept it up a good ten seconds before she let off. You just don't get it, do you? The smile faded from Wade's face. What? She looked at him, her glaring eyes so different from the ones that smiled at him last time. You're using again.

And if you want, you will again soon. And I won't be there to stop you. I won't be there to help you when you slip up. I won't be there to get your sorry ass out of rehab. I won't be there to hear. Hear your promises, and I won't be there to watch you break them again. She waved her hands in the air emphatically and deepened her voice. I promise, Mom, I'm never using again.

Wade jolted to his feet. I am not fucking using! There he is. She was smiling now, an angry smile, a smile like she won her final argument. There's the junkie of the hour. Wade put his palm against his face and shook his head, closing his eyes. He opened them again and looked at her. Her piercing gaze trained on him like a lion on the hunt.

He took a deep breath and let it out again. I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way. Well, now you know, I can't even die in peace because I'm too busy wondering who's going to be there to pick you. you up from rehab next time. There won't be a next time. He was right.

Yes. She moved the dark hair from her face and squinted at him. There will be a next time. And more after that. Wade turned and walked out of room 406. He took the nearest seat and cried.

Honey, we gotta stop meeting like this. Wade looked up and saw Lila's face peering down from beside him. He straightened his back and sighed. We had a deal. You made that deal, remember? Wade's tears had paused, but they began again. He shook his head slowly. I don't understand. I know, honey, and I tried to tell you. You idolized that woman. I tried to tell you that you. I tried to tell you that you that you. You weren't the little shit and she wasn't the perfect mother. He buried his head in his hands.

No, she was right. It is my fault. I just don't know why she said all that. You've got to understand. She's raised you since you were a baby. She's watched you make mistakes, but she always wanted to feel that care reciprocated. Instead, she's dying when you still got plenty of life in you.

She's jealous, Wade. She thinks she's got more right to live than you do. She resents you. No, that's not true. It's my fault. She's here. She's mad about that. Now, Wade, you already had to learn I'm right once.

How about you just believe me this time, all right? Besides, you still have to pay the price for breaking our arrangement. Wade looked up at her. face wet and his eyes red. Price. Her eyes squinted and her lips puckered just a little. The look told him he wasn't going to like it. Well, it was a deal of life and death, so it's a consequence of life and death.

She drew a long knife from her purse and then grabbed it by the blade, extending it out to Wade, handle first. Our deal was to let her live. And that deal was broken. Now, it's time to do the opposite. Wade raised his hands and stood up, not taking the blade. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. He looked around and his mouth opened. He wanted to call for help.

Nobody can see us right now, Wade. Call out if you want. You'll just look like a damned fool. She extended the handle out to him again. Wade put his hands against his head, bent over and cried. Why? Why are you doing this, Lila? Lila laughed, loud, shrill, terrifying. Caution you against it?

Funny, that you're blaming me! She was right. He knew that this was his fault too. But it didn't change it. He couldn't kill her. He couldn't kill his own mother. He wouldn't. Lila giggled.

See how you feel after a hundred more hospital visits to her. 200, a thousand. Wade Gultt. What? I told you, Wade, I've been around life and death a very long time. She held the blade out to him. You're going to wake up back in that motel room again. and this is going to start all over again.

Your mother has grown to hate you, Wade. She fooled you that first time when you didn't know any better, but now you do. And you're going to be subjected to her hatred again and again and again. There's no rush on when you have to kill her, but you do have to kill her. And you will eventually. With how much she hates you and how cold. she treats you, you'll learn to hate her too. She'll teach you. Now, Wade, take it. He gripped the handle. Wade looked down at the blade and cried. He tried to fight it. He really did. It took

326 repeats, but Wade wasn't counting. He lost track after the first dozen or so. Blame is like a leaking pipe. It often goes unnoticed the dripping seeming so small, but then it pulls, stagnates, rots, and still it keeps growing. It takes on a life of its own. Then it tries to take yours. Fuck who? Or is it fuck whom? Always hard to say. On Channel 8 News at 6. A local man was caught stabbing his mother to death in her hospital room. The suspect identified as Wade Pinkerton was found with blood on his clothes and he was holding a strange homemade knife. It's unsure what pushed him over the edge, but a man claiming to be his uncle spoke exclusively with Channel 8. He told us Pinkerton has been in and out of rehab and he's on his second divorce.

Deputies say when pulled from the scene, Wade was panting, sweating, and he just kept repeating the same question. Is it really over? And will gas prices in your area be rising over the next few months? Find out about that and more tonight on Channel 8 News at 11. And as always, thank you for watching Channel 8 News, where trust is a must. It's time to rest on our dark journey. We thank you for joining us. If you would like to find out how you can hear the full-length versions of our audio program,

please visit the no-sleeppodcast.com to learn. about our season pass program. 25 episodes, each over two hours long, and three exclusive bonus episodes, all for only 1999. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for listening. Join us again next week

when the journey resumes its descent into the sleepless night. This audio production is copyright 2017-2018 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. reserved. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media,