(ง'̀-'́)ง

Context: Our refrigerator hasn't been cold for a while. If I had to guess, I would say it was 50 degrees Fahrenheit or similar. We (my mom and I) are pretty sure it has to do with the freezer suddenly being too icy and blocking the airflow to the refrigerator's vents. We tried to put less stuff in the freezer, but the ice came back.

After that we started using hair dryers and hot water to melt the ice blockage from the freezer, and smashing the ice with spatulas and other kitchen utensils (don't copy us, lol). It's annoying because our Whirlpool refrigerator is built in such a way that we can't remove the freezer's back panel easily. So we had to melt the ice through the freezer's vents, essentially doing it blind. My mom attempted to melt the frozen airflow between the freezer and refrigerator with hot water a couple days ago which I guess finally did the trick.

Although the refrigerator vent now has a little frost hanging off of it so I guess we'll see what becomes of that.

Update on May 11th, 2025:

Uh, so the power went out for a minute yesterday and when I checked the temperature of our drinking water in the fridge it wasn't cold anymore. -_-

I restarted the cooling option so I'll check and see if that brings it back to normal tomorrow.

And in case you're wondering why we're not calling a technician to take care of this for us…

There's this thing called "money."

An evaluation would cost $80 to 120.

Followed by the cost to fix the actual problem or get a new refrigerator which could range from $200 to $2000.

So we've gotta be literal ice breakers in our house.

Author's Note: My first attempt at some kind of horror, lol. If you keep reading until the end, a narrative twist will happen.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

Most people know the obvious ways in which one can die.

Fire.

Drowning.

Running into traffic.

Drinking poison.

Someone else killing you.

But what if there was another way?

A way so sadistic, so sinister...that your brain made you forget about it just so it could protect you?

(And by extension, itself.)

That, my friend, is the legend...

...of the Deadly Riff.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

Katherine Lemar looked in the mirror and tucked her hair behind her ear.

This is it.

She leaned in closer to observe a pimple on her left cheek, still stubbornly clinging on after a week of trying every remedy she could think of.

She sighed.

Shaking her head, she leaned away from the bathroom mirror and lightly dusted the shoulders of her outfit. 

Nothing fancy. Just a light brown business suit with pants and a white tie.

She inhaled and exhaled.

She was ready.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

Katherine glanced at the man's lips.

"Mark."

She looked him in the eyes confidently, and grabbed his hand, which he had left out as a greeting.

"Great to finally meet you, Mark. I'm Katherine."

She shook it firmly, then let go quickly.

She glanced around the recording booth studio. A simple one with low lighting, some musical devices, and other miscellaneous things that she didn't understand.

"Look, Katherine..."

Mark glanced over at her and she nodded.

"...this thing. This is really killing a lot of folks out here. And as the chief of police, I'd kinda like for the damn thing to disappear yesterday. You know?"

He crossed his arms.

"Was that too fast?"

"No, you're fine. I understood everything you said."

"Really?"

"Yes. You're worried about this thing killing people and you want it out of your life as fast as possible."

Mark chuckled.

"Damn. I don't know how you do it. And the crazy thing is you don't even sound deaf!"

"I lost my hearing as a teen, but I remember how everything sounded. That's why you can't tell at first glance. Hearing aids also help."

"Wow. So it’s a ‘walk in the park’ as they used to say?”

“Actually, there is one aspect that I have trouble with.”

“Not being able to talk to peoples’ heads?” Mark suggested with a short laugh.

"No. Foreign languages with different characters. I'm never going back to any place that only speaks Asian languages ever again."

Mark laughed.

"Well, I'm not deaf, but I can certainly understand that."

He gestured toward two seats near the music controls and they both sat down.

"So..." Katherine started as she made herself comfortable on the firmly cushioned seat. "In your letter, you called this thing a 'deadly riff'?"

"Yes."

"So when did this all start?"

Mark leaned back in his chair and glanced to his right.

"Ah, hell... Six? Maybe seven weeks ago?"

"Okay. And why do you think it’s responsible for killing people?”

“Well, one of my deputies noticed the pattern of those victims having blood in their ears every time we found them. No stabbing, head wounds, bruises on the neck. You know, the usual suspects of death. Just blood in the ears. So on a hunch, our coroner offered to listen to one of the records we found at a crime scene. The next day, his assistant found him dead on the morgue floor with the record still in the record player.”

“He had blood in his ears too?”

“He did. So I decided to try it out for myself.”

“That’s certainly a risk.”

“It was. But it was my decision. So me and six other people from the station decided to try it all at once. We figured whatever this thing was couldn’t get all of us. So I dropped the needle. I remember bracing myself for my brain to explode or something and the next thing I knew, the room was silent, and three were on the flood, dead. When I asked the others what happened, they said they didn't even know I had started playing the record.”

“So immediate amnesia or death upon playing.”

Mark nodded.

"And then we got a package of a record at the station."

"A package."

"Yeah."

He got up from his seat and left the room for a moment, only to return with a thin brown package.

Katherine grabbed it from him without permission and glanced at the cover.

WARNING: POTENTIALLY LETHAL. DO NOT PLAY IN RECORD PLAYER. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO LISTEN. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

She ran her fingers along the opening, then paused.

She looked up at Mark.

"You want me to ‘listen,’” she air quoted with her fingers “to it, don't you?"

Mark nodded.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

Mark stayed behind the glass as he watched Katherine flip the black record back and forth between her hands.

The sound proof booth that was normally used for recording up to five people at once came in handy today. Both she and Mark had to not only lift the smallest record player they could find into the booth, but they also had to bring in Katherine's musical note visualizer invention that could display the musical beats as they happened.

Katherine glanced down at the music visualizer, the marker resting silently.

People told her that it reminded them of a very old invention called a "lie detector."

She gently placed the record on the record player.

She looked up at Mark.

"CAN YOU HEAR ME IN THIS BOOTH?!" she yelled.

Mark mouthed, "Huh?"

Now that she was sure he wouldn't drop dead from what she was about to do, she lifted the needle from the record player and dropped it on to the record, which immediately began to spin.

She glanced down at the music note visualizer.

The lines ran down vertically against it with hardly any zig zags.

Looks normal so far.

She put her hands on her hips and leaned down a little, observing the needle's output against the sheet.

She blinked, and suddenly, the machine stopped.

It took her a second to realize that the music note visualizer had gone back to its blank default setting.

She tilted her head, confused.

Then she moved her head up and was startled to find Mark with one hand on the glass, and another one pointing at something behind her.

She turned around and her shoulders twitched.

In the corner of the booth she found that the recording player had been knocked over.

And the record itself had been broken in two pieces.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

"You were having a fit in there. I would've intervened, but I was worried the deadly riff would get me too," Mark said as he dug his spoon into his vanilla yogurt with honey.

Katherine, who was sitting across from him at their table inside a local tea shop tapped her fingers absentmindedly on her tall drinking glass which was filled with an Earthy blueberry lemon slush tea.

She watched him as he dipped one of his teaspoon cookies into his yogurt and bit into it.

He stopped mid-crunch and held out the half eaten cookie toward her.

She waved her hand away.

"I just have one question."

"Hmm."

"If no one ever remembers this riff and the ones that do are killed immediately after hearing it, then how do you know it's a guitar riff? It could be someone's voice, a drum solo, saxophone, train whistle..."

"Well..."

Mark reached over and drank the lemon water from his cup.

"That's just what my people and I called it over at the station. You're right. We don't know what the hell that record plays. We just know that it's dangerous."

He paused.

"But I'd like to think it's a guitar riff."

Katherine grinned.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

"I have a remedy for that pimple, by the way," Mark said as he escorted Katherine down the hallway to her room in a hotel.

Katherine pursed her lips.

"I was hoping no one noticed that."

She scanned his face as she put her key into the door lock.

"Would you like to stay the night?"

Mark blushed.

"I don't know about that. I'd hate to leave you with something like a baby later."

"You're not...?"

"What?"

Katherine's eyes flashed toward the number on her door, trying to fight the awkwardness that she had now caused.

Guess he doesn't have the squeeze, then.

"Never mind."

She took the key out and placed her hand on the knob, but before she could turn it, Mark placed his hand on top of hers.

"But, there's plenty more we could do that wouldn't get you pregnant."

Katherine smiled softly up at  him.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

The next morning, Katherine eyed the room service meal that had been brought up, unsure of which one to try first.

Before she could choose a dish she knew had originated from a Northern Georgelandian state, the door opened and Mark walked through it.

She had requested a spare key for him from the hotel's front desk.

But when she saw the look on his face, she immediately walked  over to him.

"It got someone else, didn't it?"

Mark sighed.

"Yeah. A family. Two parents and two of their three little girls.”

“Two?”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

They sat on the edge of the hotel bed.

Katherine looked at him.

“What’s gonna happen to the little girl?”

“She’ll go into the custody of her mom’s friend.”

He dropped his head and sighed.

Kathrine put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

"Did any of your deputy's report anything, odd?"

Mark lifted his head to look at her.

"Only that they were never supposed to get the package in the first place. They looked at the package and it was meant for a tenant that had lived below the family. A simple post mix-up saved that bastard's life."

"That's one way to look at it."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

She sat across from Mark as they rode the night train.

Mark looked at her, then rested his hands on the table in between them.

"What if something happens where we're going?" she asked.

"Then we'll deal with it."

Mark glanced up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we should be arriving at our destination in approx—"

He looked back at Katherine.

"Train announcement."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

Katherine opened her eyes to find that she was on a pitch black train. She leaned away from Mark's shoulder, which she had been resting on.

She felt a chill come over her.

Then the lights flickered on.

She screamed.

The train, which had been so lively with all the people in it just before her nap, was now filled with those same people sprawled on floors, or with their heads sunken into the seats in front of them.

She grabbed Mark's shirt sleeve.

"Mark?"

"Mark?"

Silence.

But she was used to that.

Her main concern was that there was no movement from him at all. 

No reaction. Nothing.

She swallowed, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to see.

She looked over and found him leaning against the window, with his eyes wide open, blood hanging outside his ears, and a frightened expression frozen on his face.

Katherine then felt someone poke her shoulder.

She jumped and looked around, but there was no one there.

Then she looked back at the table and saw that a pink square radio was now on it.

That wasn't there before...

She looked around, unsure.

She reached her hand out toward it, but froze.

No.

No.

She grabbed the radio and got up from her seat.

She glanced around at the train, trying to figure out what to use.

Then she remembered something.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

She tried to steady herself as she moved through the shaky train and found more dead people.

Suddenly, she was taken by surprise by the sound of the train's wheels squeaking violently as it passed over something rough, so she used one of her hand’s to grab the top of a seat next to her, which had a young boy's face pressed into the back of it.

She jumped.

Who's driving the train?

Once she felt steady again, she let go of the seat.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

After moving through three car sections, she finally found it.

A glass case with an axe next to it for emergencies.

She grabbed the axe.

Now, all she needed to do was find a place to smash the radio.

Ah! To Hell with it! Everyone's dead anyway.

She threw the radio down on the floor.

Then she began swinging at it, the pieces hitting the bodies of former passengers as she did so.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

Katherine pushed the pieces on either side of the aisle seats next to her.

The radio was gone but there was still the problem of who was driving the train and why they weren't affected by the deadly riff.

Only one way to know.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

After finally making it to the conductor car she grabbed both handles of the sliding door and pulled with all her might.

"What?"

The conductor was slumped over the controls, the sticks holding her blonde bun in place still perfectly adorned.

Katherine looked up and felt her legs go weak.

They were approaching a cliff next to a bridge.

The bridge they would've taken if the conductor had been alive to switch tracks earlier.

She scrambled at the controls.

She pulled a lever, followed by a red button. Then she pushed a blue button and a green one.

But it was no use.

Because unbeknownst to Katherine, the emergency brake was located underneath the dead conductor's leg, hidden from view.

"AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

The next morning, the wreck was discovered.

"No survivors then?"

The woman looked at the deputy and with one look, he knew the answer was "no."

He sighed.

"Thank you."

He leaned down next to a piece of wreckage and closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer to himself for the chief.

Then he opened his eyes and got up.

"What a damn shame."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

Driving back into town, the deputy thought about what he was gonna say to the chief's family and all the other peoples' families in the statement he would have to report later on that day.

He reached over and turned the dial on the car radio, but it was just static.

He kept tuning it until he found a song he had never heard before playing in crisp, clear quality.

He relaxed as he bopped his head to the song.

He wasn't worried because he knew only those mailed records were deadly.

Or so he thought.

He continued to enjoy the song as he stopped at a red light.

He looked at his seat, trying to remember something that had nothing to do with what he was gonna tell the families, then glanced back up to find another car making a beeline for him!

"Shit!"

He turned the wheel with all his strength and managed to swerve the car out of the path of the oncoming car.

Once he was composed enough, he got out of his car and found that the car with the reckless driver had crashed into a collection box.

"Hey, asshole! When I get your name they're gonna revoke your license so fast it'll—"

He looked inside and found a man face down in the steering wheel with blood stains on his neck.

"Damn."

He walked back to his car and grabbed the walkie-talkie from inside the ID compartment.

"Station, this is Deputy Gordon, over."

Silence.

"Repeat. Station, this is Deputy Gordon, over."

He grunted in frustration.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

He looked up at the laundry mat's sign, written in both English and Finnish.

On the door was a sign that said "telephone inside."

He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned the handle.

But he didn't find a phone. Instead he found—

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

"More dead bodies, followed by more bull crap happening,” a voice with an English accent interrupted the woman speaking.

The voice belonged to a boy who wasn’t even trying to hide the boredom on his face.

He was about twelve, with light tan skin, short black hair, and mildly sharp features. The woman appeared to be in her mid to late twenties, with ivory skin, soft features, and dark brown hair that was wrapped in a high ponytail. She wore a black and white striped shirt with black pants. The boy wore a school uniform which consisted of black pants and a single blue line running down the side of each leg and a white, short-sleeved collared shirt with red outlining the hems.

They were both in a moderate sized kitchen sitting on high chairs, the two of them snacking on circular brown rice cakes wrapped in seaweed.

"Jeez, you kids these days have no patience," she replied in an accent that sounded North American as she took another bite from hers.

"I already know what's gonna happen.”

"What?"

"Deputy Gordon's gonna see the dead bodies, scream bloody murder, and then it's gonna turn out the 'deadly riff' is some kinda supernatural evil mist and with everyone either dead or their memories erased, no one will ever be able to defeat it, forever. The end."

The young woman sighed.

"Bollocks."

The boy snorted and laughed. 

"You been living here way too long, Eva."

"For god's sake Oz, why'd you let me ramble on if you knew the ending?"

"I was bored. I still had another hour to kill 'til I had to go to Civics and Qui Qui canceled the band rehearsal today ‘cause of her flu."

Oz grinned.

"Nic also told me this gongpo iyagi last year."

Eva scoffed.

"Of course he did."

THE END

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  =  =

Author's Note: Inspired by a strange dream I had on April 21st (this year). The dream wasn't this detailed, of course, it just had that one part about the riff. And in the dream, I just saw a random black and white visual of an unknown musical note on a screen and it was sort of implied that every time someone heard it, their brain erased the memory of it. But they knew it existed because they saw it on the screen or something. I don't know.

I tried my best though! And I'm also hitting two birds with one stone so to speak because this is not only a horror story, but a horror story that certain characters in the JM Universe (Jikanime Motori, available on Wattpad) know about. So it's one of that universe's urban legends.

I hope that makes sense.

Also, if there's a story out there similar to this, please let me know. I actually looked it up before because I thought it was real for a second (O_O) but then I realized, lol.

It's not too surprising though because she's gonna turn 101 next month (February).

My poor mom was understandably really upset when she first got the call.

The only thing I could do was just stand there and rub her shoulders while she called some people.

So yeah.

Of course, I was more sad for my mom than upset myself because, well, that's her mom and their relationship is pretty good. So of course she was gonna be in tears because of it.

Sadly, I've never been close with either of my grandmas (my paternal grandma died in 2007 at 94 going on 95) mainly due to language barriers and not being socialized around older people growing up. My paternal grandma lived with us, but my maternal grandma lives on the other side of the United States so it's very rare that we get to see my mom's side of the family.

It's still a sad thing though because any kind of "stroke" is dangerous, if not, completely life-changing for the person it happens to, young or old.

My maternal grandma definitely won't be the same person anymore after this.

Also, my mom had a dream today that a younger version of her dad went to "go get" (her words) a younger version of her mom.

When I say young, I mean both of them were in their forties.

But yeah, pretty strange.

My grandpa died way before my older sister was born from a stroke (oddly enough) so that's another weird thing.

This random and cold universe of ours is so weird.

xx

After combing through the manual a bunch of times in the backyard with our dog Lilo (I was alone o_O), I found out that it was most likely a low battery issue. Which means it needs to be replaced. 

I also checked another alarm in the same area of the house which had the CO in the air display number on it (the one beeping didn't) and it said “0” every time I pushed the button to check it.

But yeah, scary stuff!

I was panicking internally so much.

I feel fine (other than anxiety) and Lilo seems okay, but still.

Additionally, I noticed a “replace by 6/2027” note under the display alarm (the slow beeping one was blank underneath), so that means it probably still works. It also had a green light flashing every so often.

Video:

Oh, and I should also mention that the “low battery” alarm is right across from the cupboard (?) where the heater is and above the thermostat for said heater and air conditioner in the hallway.

The working CO alarm is 5-7 feet away from the area going forward.

Update:

After helping my mom remove the “low battery” alarm from the wall, we flipped it over and the manufacturer's date said August 2014. And I also realized that the “service” part of the alarm was glowing red the brightest.

So yeah, it just reached the end of its battery life.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I wish you'd hurry and be honest with me.

Explain everything.

The lies.

The mask of words.

I wish you'd say something.

Write something.

Do something.

Give me several weeks to regain some semblance of trust with you even though I know a part of me will want to forgive and trust you in just a few days.

Maybe less.

Or did you think you could have your cake and eat it too?

Maybe I was just a joke to you.

Or maybe you cared too much?

Maybe you were scared?

I don't know.

That feels a little unrealistic.

I'm not even pretty.

But I meant it when I said friendship would be good enough for me.

You're on a level that's way too high for me to reach, so it would be for the best in the long run anyway.

Even so, no one deserves this.

Being made to think that they've lost their mind.

That they're seeing things.

That everything's a coincidence.

God. 

Why can't you speak up?

But it seems like you would only be capable of doing that…

If I were standing in a line.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

A man recently came over to try and fix the area, and it seemed like he did the job, but this morning my idiot father turned off the water supply because the same or another area was leaking water again. However, instead of just letting it leak, he now refuses to turn the water on at all.

Now we (my mom and I mostly because he's stupid and disgusting and expects us to be okay with that too) won't be able to take a shower, wash the dishes, brush our teeth, floss, fill up the water pitcher, do pretty much anything all because he's afraid of the water leaking even just a little bit. I mean, there are water bottles, but not enough, and we both know how to turn on the water, but I know he's gonna make a fuss over it.

-_-

Also, my mom called the man and asked him to fix the leak he left behind this morning and he agreed to show up between 1 and 2 pm.

Guess who decided to leave the house before that time and didn't return until later?

Yep.

The moron himself.

(I couldn't open the door because I don't speak Spanish and my father was the one dealing with him anyway. Plus, I was asleep. Can't use the bathroom much if you're asleep.)

He claims the man didn't show up, but I don't believe it. He probably showed up but no one answered the door, so he left.

And to top it all off in the parade of idiocy, my father tried to con the man (who was already giving my mom a discount) into fixing all the sprinklers in addition to his normal job of repairing a pipe and fixing the leak.

It'd be like if someone had surgery and the doctor found another thing to operate on and decided to charge the patient for that too without their consent!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is just the latest in the many examples of inconsiderate abuse that my father puts us through, plus his scam artist nature with others. He's so concerned with a little bit of leaking water that he can't even turn on the water for just an hour.

And it's not even about the money either because my mom has the emergency funds to get it (unlike the idiot who expects her to handle everything).

It's the simple fact that he can't even grant us the consideration of a little water because an inconsequential leak is more important than our comfort and cleanliness.

I hate him.

Update:

My mom talked to the plumber over the phone and he claims that the water needs to be off entirely tonight so he can fix the issue tomorrow morning.

Annoying, but fine. At least he's coming over to fix it.

Will he be successful?

Who knows?

There's a reason why I'm a depressed and pessimistic person.

I never expect anything to be good or work out, ever.

And that whole "no one is perfect" thing is just an excuse for people to not hold parents accountable.

Is the parent who hoards lottery tickets in boxes leaving four children in a cramped and dirty home an "imperfect person?" Or someone with mental issues whose children deserve to live in a healthy environment?

When a parent terrifies their child from a young age, disrespects their non-sexual boundaries, and manipulates them into accommodating them (the parent), is that an "imperfect person?" Or a person who needs to be verbally slammed for their own toxic behavior toward an innocent child?

As someone who grew up in a toxic and emotionally neglectful home, I hate the "no one is perfect" excuse.

I hate it.

Saying the wrong thing sometimes.

Handling a situation the wrong way.

That's one thing.

But there is a big difference between something that amounts to an "oops" versus something that can actually harm others.

To give an example, we'll use my father.

He's a very inconsiderate person. Hardly thinks about others, and expects others to be okay with things like he is.

Recently, he's been trying to fix a water issue because the water bill is too high. Seems innocent enough, but the problem is that he's taking over two weeks to fix it because he can't afford help. So for most of the day my mom and I are stuck without running water (since he needs it off). If he was actually a good, non-selfish person, who considered others, he would have saved up money months ago as soon as he realized something was wrong so he could pay to have it repaired in one day or a few days. At the very least, he would at least be able to afford help.

But nope.

Guess who he expects to pay for all the house repairs?

Yep.

My mom.

Of course, he's been giving her the silent treatment for months now (which was somehow triggered by her putting her phone face down while listening to a podcast ◔_◔), so she refuses to help pay for anything at this point.

Also, it should be noted that my father held a silent grudge against my mom for laughing with an insurance agent as she opened the door for him to leave the house.

He remembered her laughing with a stranger for two seconds and took that as a relationship threat.

He then accused her of cheating and then insisted that they go to therapy which consisted of him dropping her off at the therapist's office and then leaving as if to say "you're the problem, not me."

I was around eight when this happened (my mom told me a few years ago), but it explains so much about my childhood. My father stressed my mom out, which stressed my sister out, which also stressed my mom out to the point of her not wanting to get involved in anything, including doing the right thing about our safety and divorcing him. So with all this stress going on, where do you think they put it?

Into a period of self-reflection with themselves, a friend, or a therapist?

Nope.

They just took it out on the youngest member of the household who was already timid and turned me into their emotional “punching bag.”

But back to my father.

I remember the first time I felt unsafe around him.

I was eight years old and little me was getting ready for school when my father barged into the open bathroom and told me he was gonna cut my long hair.

Little me communicated some form of "no," but he threatened me into complying. Unfortunately, I can't remember if he threatened me with violence or grounding, but this was the first time that I remembered feeling unsafe with him.

He did a horrible job, and my hair got even poofier from being shorter, but I had to go to school like that anyway. Another odd thing is that no one ever taught me how to manage my hair back then. Poofy hair wouldn't have been so bad if either of my parents had at least taught me how to use a hair tie.

But no one ever did.

I spent the rest of elementary school with poofy hair, finally started using gel in middle school and high school, and afterwards, just started putting my hair up.

Oh, and to make matters worse, my father took a photo of me that day standing outside of school looking miserable when he went to pick me up.

How sadistic do you have to be to take a photo of your own child being miserable the day you forced a haircut on them?

There was also one time when he made me hand over my private diary for him to read in middle school (example of a boundary violation).

He also manipulated me into a photo together in front of the Golden Gate Bridge a little over ten years ago after he angered me beforehand. I forgot what he did exactly, but in the photo, you can tell how annoyed I am by my scowl.

And there was another time when he needed a photo of himself taken for something, so he wanted me to sit on a stool to take it. But I didn't feel steady on the stool due to there being no back on it and I was afraid I'd fall over. I really didn’t want to do it anymore after that.

So did he reassure me and try to find another way to take the photo?

Nope!

He just made me feel too terrified to leave the stool by raising his voice and insisting on his way. I was in my early twenties when this happened, I think (I know it was after high school).

So fast-forward to today and my father is still just as petty, inconsiderate, and lacking any sort of self-awareness.

The only difference?

Now, I speak up.

Now, I walk away.

And if I could, I would visit younger me and try to reassure her the way she should've been growing up.

Unfortunately, I can't.

The only thing I can do now is continue to limit contact with him and find some way to keep busy.

Of course, this doesn't stop him from trying to manipulate a situation to make him look "sane" and me like the crazy person who overreacts.

In addition to us not having much water during the last couple of weeks, he brought a squirrel into the home yesterday (in a box under old clothes) because he wanted to "save it from the cats." And while yes, some stray cats tried to attack the squirrel in our backyard, that does not mean we need to bring the squirrel and their potential diseases into our home.

I suggested he call animal control, and if not that, at least put the squirrel in his car, drive down the neighborhood, then release it to an area without cats.

But no!

He just has to be the hero who saves all the animals even if there's a chance that could potentially inconvenience others.

◔_◔

I was getting really angry and inpatient at his stupidity and even raised my voice because of it.

Meanwhile, he just sat there calmly and told me that I needed to "control my emotions."

This coming from the adult who emptied a full cup of liquid onto the counter when he was angry with my mom when I was a child, stopped speaking to her for no reason, and threatened to hit me this year because he claimed adults did it to him when he was younger.

-_-

The squirrel box is outside now and it was also in the garage for a little while, so technically, they were not in the home for long.

But the lack of consideration for others is just infuriating.

So, yes, there is such a thing as a "bad parent."

Or rather, "bad person who happens to be a parent."

However, another weird thing is that my father is quite an “okay” person when he’s not in a bad mood. He’s friendly, conversational, and affectionate, but he’s an explosion waiting to happen. I have no way to know what’s gonna trigger his next outburst, which is why I limit my contact with him. I haven’t even hugged him in years! That should tell you something.

Also, he burns bridges with so many people so it’s not just me who’s uncomfortable with him.

My mom told me that a relative on his side of the family refused to continue speaking to him after something that happened between them years ago.

She didn’t tell me what (and I don’t think the relative told her either), but I’m gonna guess he insulted her so much that she got tired of him.

I wouldn’t blame her.

He could’ve also used her money for some stupid expense of his.

Or maybe he did something much worse than the previous possibilities.

Yes, I have actually considered that possibility.

I already mentioned that he was an inconsiderate person who doesn’t care about boundaries, right?

So it wouldn’t surprise me.

And some people in the podcast were talking about how they think they should be grateful for their parents no matter what, while also wanting to make them proud, but I think that's such an awful position to be in, especially if your parent is/was a legitimately bad person.

I don't do things to make anyone, especially someone so toxic, forceful, and full of so much anger, proud.

I do them to make myself proud.

And for any ignorant idiot who says “he’s your father! you have to forgive him.”

Wow.

Must be nice to grow up with a mentally healthy and safe parent.

But read this carefully.

I don’t have to do anything.

His issues were there long before I was born, and it was always his responsibility to deal with them.

My mom, sister, and I were never supposed to be his “punching bags.”

= = =

Bonus Reddit thread with accounts of abuse from other people and their families.

DAE feel like they have a sign on them that says "abuse me"? : r/CPTSD

= = =

Update: My father told me that the squirrel escaped from the box when he moved it from the garage to the backyard yesterday.

But I am so overwhelmed from just reading the first line.

I also looked at the form for income tax and the thought of calculating that on my own in the future is so nerve-wracking to me.

I'm not sure I have what it takes.

Even my anxiety at this is enough to make me hate myself.

There are a lot of skills that I've learned to do over the years, but interacting with the outside world is not one of them.

I'm a 33 year old who's never had her own income, so I've never been employed.

And I've been living at the home I was raised in since my high school graduation (I also attended the local community college).

Yes, I'm pathetic.

It's also one of the reasons why I'm hesitant to make new friends.

It's really lonely, but I'd rather not have any new peers get to know me until I'm a proper adult (earning income and having the ability to do things independently).

Of course, even if I had the bare minimum of a paying job, I still wouldn't want anyone to be interested in me.

I don't think there's a single person on Earth who would be interested in getting to know a young woman who is looking for employment super late/became employed super late, never made her own friends (my friends from middle/high school, who I'm still friends with today, approached me first), doesn't know how to drive, and has little interest in sexual intimacy (pregnancy, stds, and it’s kinda gross? no thank you).

And so, the isolation continues… . . . Writing this made me tear up a bit, which was unexpected.

But I would really really prefer it if no one spoke to me until I at least found a way to generate my own income.

Of course, I can't actually stop anyone from wanting to speak to me online. If someone out there thinks a never-employed adult who still lives at home and has no hope for any sort of future except poverty and misery is worth getting to know, then have at it.

But anyone who wants to get to know me can do so much better than me.

I also feel kinda stupid now for being so annoying on Wattpad this year. I wanted someone on there to be honest about their true identity with me for my own peace of mind so I wouldn't feel like I was crazy, but now I'm not so sure I would've been ready for him to be honest with me back then. Or now.

And the context for this is that near the end of January, I messaged someone on social media telling them about a written work of mine. And then, the very next day, an anonymous user complimented that same written work on my profile's conversations tab (I deleted it), which made me believe it was him. The written work had also never been commented on until then, which also made me believe it.

But even when I was chatting with him on Wattpad messaging (before they took it away), a part of me was hesitant to talk more freely in the chat (I only said "hi" then left a huge gap before telling him "goodbye") because a part of me didn't want anyone new to speak to a pathetic adult like me. And another part of me was like "What if it really is him? Do I even deserve his attention? I mean, he could've ignored the message I sent. He didn't have to waste his time on Wattpad just to speak to me, but…"

So me not being sure if he really was the person I messaged was a great excuse to cut off our two week's worth of communication right then and there. Plus, he didn't seem different on his social media, so I started to doubt that it was actually him.

Then I tried chatting with him again in April because I wanted to really make sure that he wasn't the person that I messaged on social media. I even ranted a bit because I couldn't believe that he (allegedly) wasn't him.

And my rants mostly consisted of me saying "I can't believe you're not him" and "how did you find me if you're not him?" in the chat. He took it surprisingly well (at least in writing), but, ugh.

Long story short is that he wasn't the person I messaged. That, or he did a really good job of convincing me that he wasn't.

But the nerve of me to ask somebody like him to actually admit his true identity to a nobody like me was/is ridiculous.

No matter who it was, I shouldn't have put him through that.

That situation is now a dark time in my life because of how crazy, sad, and stupid I felt at the end of it.

But even if it is/was him, it's way better for him to just forget about me.

I mean, I can't even think about doing "adult things" without a sense of internal dread.

And it would be way too embarrassing for him be friends with someone like me, even if we're only able to communicate online for quite some time.

(⌣_⌣”)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

UPDATE:

2:50 pm

I spoke with my mom about my anxiety over the taxes and she tried to reassure me that it’s not as scary as I’m making it out to be. The fear is still there, but she made me feel a little bit better.

We have a leak in the front yard and that's making the water bill too high so he only wants the water on when it's absolutely necessary while he fixes it by himself.

We've had to resort to using buckets of water to flush the toilet if we ever use it when the water's off. And we've had to use pots of water to wash our hands because of the lack of running water.

Which brings me to right now. I don't know how, but I started experiencing symptoms of something yesterday. I have a slight headache, mild fever, and tight throat. I also just finished my period but I don't think that's relevant because I never get symptoms during that time anyway.

I've spent the last four hours trying to fall asleep, but it's hard to doze off.

I'm 99% sure his obsession with saving money on the water bill did whatever this is to me. I mean, yeah sure, fix the leak. But this is something that should've been fixed months ago.

And I hate the way he's like “oh, you don’t need the water! you wash your hands all the time and this will give you practice for being outside—”

Excuse me.

But the reason I barely get so much as a cold is because I use CLEAN RUNNING WATER TO WASH MY HANDS! Not water that everyone else has touched!

I mean, I've had to use a clean cup to get the water out and rinse my hands whenever I wash them, but, still. It's not a very efficient wash is it?

And I need to wash my hands. I have a habit of touching my face which is why I wash my hands so much in the first place. The only time I have some control over the habit is when I'm actually outside because I consciously know that I can't.

Ugh.

This is the occasional stupidity that I have to deal with.

(－‸ლ)

Anyway, I'll keep this stupid water drama updated for anyone that cares.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

UPDATE:

After napping all day, my headache and fever are gone and my throat feels a little bit better.

Also, my mom (whose symptoms are slightly worse compared to mine), thinks she might have brought this cold back from work because the woman she works for was sick this week.

So it might have nothing to do with the lack of washing hands at all.

I still think it played a part though.

Author's Note: My attempt at ChickLit's Prompt 8 from their "Prompts to Share" book on Wattpad. Although it's not very "chicklit" friendly. Or maybe it could be? I don't know. It seems more like a drama.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Claudia stared at the dark line in front of her.

No way.

No way.

She tossed the pregnancy test in the trash.

"There!"

Somehow, she thought that would make it null and void.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"But I thought you really wanted kids?" her friend questioned her over the phone.

"I do. I just figured I'd have them with someone less..."

"Two-faced?" her friend suggested.

"That's not very nice, Rose."

"Please. After seeing you break down in tears with snot coming out of your nose, that asshole is as good as dead to me."

"I..."

Claudia laughed, but it came out as a sigh.

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"What did the doctor say?"

Her mother raised an eyebrow at her.

"Mom..."

Claudia picked up a box of crackers and put it into the shopping cart.

She looked around.

"Where's dad?"

"He's over by the bakery."

Her mother pointed in the direction of the bakery where sure enough, her father was perusing around the boxes of croissants and brownies.

They looked at each other knowingly.

"So?" her mother insisted again.

Claudia sighed.

"You better get those baby clothes ready. You're gonna be a grandmother!"

"Ah!"

She wrapped her daughter in a tight hug.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"Twins?!"

Claudia couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Yes. See?"

The technician pointed at the ultrasound screen.

Claudia looked and sure enough, she could see two forms on the screen.

Shit.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Claudia paced around her living room.

"What are you gonna do?" Rose asked her, lounging on the couch.

Claudia stopped in her tracks as her mind wandered back to that day...

"What the hell, Travis?" Claudia asked a young man at his apartment door.

She held up her phone with a text message conversation that had been exchanged between them recently.

let's break up

i'm sorry

but I'll always love you

Travis' expression remained unchanged.

"You can't read?"

Claudia blinked.

"What's wrong with you?"

She stepped closer to him, but he backed away.

"If you come any closer, I'll report you for trespassing."

"Travis!"

She tried to step through his open door but he used his arm to block her.

"Please..."

Her eyes began to fill with tears.

"I already told you. It's over."

And with that, Travis shut the door in front of her.

But Claudia was determined.

"Travis!"

She banged her fists against the door.

"Travis!"

Silence.

"Travis?" she said, sobbing.

"Claudia?"

Rose's voice brought her back to the present.

"Yeah?"

"What are you gonna do?"

Claudia put her hands on her stomach.

She immediately felt the two fetuses movements inside her womb.

"I'm gonna tell him."

Rose sat up straighter on the couch.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I have to Rose."

"You really don't."

"He's their dad."

"And? He's an asshole."

"Rose—"

"Claudia."

Rose adjusted herself so she could sit cross-legged, then she folded her hands in her lap.

"You were crying over him on and off for three months."

"I know, but—"

"No, you don't get it."

Rose paused for a brief moment.

"I already tried speaking to him."

"Rose! Why would you do that?"

"Because even though he broke your heart, I still wanted to see if there was anything I could do. So I sent him a message on MyFace seven months ago."

"You told him I was pregnant?"

"No. I just kept spamming him and demanding that he explain things. I even told him how upset you were but he never responded. Bastard even turned off the 'seen' sticker so I don't even know if he saw them."

"Travis never did like getting multiple texts," Claudia said matter-of-factly.

"Hmm. And how did he respond whenever you got upset? Because I started telling him about the emotional devastation you went through because of him. And you know what he did? Nothing."

Claudia stayed silent.

"He loved you for three years, and then suddenly—"

She snapped her fingers.

"He stopped loving you. And then he had the nerve to post that 'single and heartbroken' status on his profile like it was your idea to break up."

Claudia reached for a cup on the table next to her and drank a sip of water.

It was all she could do to stop her hand from shaking.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Ring!

"Can someone get that?" Claudia's father yelled.

Claudia glanced at the door of her parents' home and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, god. Mom, could you look after him?"

Her mother stretched out her hands so Claudia could place the four month baby in her arms.

She gently kissed his forehead.

"I'll be back, Clarence. Grandma will look after you."

She pointed at her mother.

"Grandma," she repeated to him with a smile.

She walked away from the two of them and made her way to the door, passing her father and Rose on the floor with the other baby Jeff, who was on a soft blanket.

She turned around and bent down to give Jeff a kiss on the cheek.

"How's he doing?"

"Pretty good," Rose told her.

"Little guy definitely loves cuddles," her father said.

The doorbell rang again.

"I need to get that."

Claudia continued for the door.

She placed her hand over the doorknob, but she paused.

What if?

No.

Don't get your hopes up.

She took a deep breath.

Then she opened the door.

"Oh."

'Hi, Claudia."

Claudia turned around to look at the scene behind her, then back at him.

"Hi, Shawn."

She turned around again to shut the door behind her.

"I almost thought you were Travis."

"Just me, I'm afraid."

"How did you know I was at my parents house?"

"Town gossipers. I bumped into your mom's friend at the grocery store this morning."

Claudia chuckled.

"Of course."

He stroked the bottom of his chin with his finger.

"Listen...Is there anywhere private we can talk? Maybe I can drive you to the park down the street."

"Shawn, I can't—"

"Your babies will be fine. And anyway, this has to do with their dad."

"Why? Is he at the park?"

Why couldn't he face me himself?

"No. But we really need to talk."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Shawn drummed his fingers on the car dashboard as they sat in the parked car.

"Travis is dead."

Claudia felt all the air leave her chest.

"What?"

She turned to look at Shawn.

"No."

Shawn rubbed the corner of his nose with his finger.

"Yes."

He placed both of his hands on the steering wheel, possibly to steady himself.

"Travis he..."

He took a breath.

"Travis got on the wrong side of a shady businessman. Told him he wasn't gonna let the man get away with bossing him around just because he was rich. The next day, he got a threat on his life."

Claudia thought back to the week Travis' demeanor suddenly changed...

Claudia stood behind Travis who was in front of the stove cooking something.

She wrapped her arms around his back and rested her head on his right shoulder.

"What are you making?"

"Something," he told her playfully.

"Tell me."

"Come see for yourself."

"I can't look over your shoulder, I'm too short."

She felt his stomach heave as he laughed.

"Lazy. Lazy."

"Hey!"

She leaned over to the right and found him searing chicken cutlets in oil.

She looked up at him.

"Taquitos?"

"Yep."

"I'll take fifty."

"Damn. Hungry are we?"

"Very."

She rubbed his shoulders, then looked around the kitchen.

"I'll help you."

"Thanks."

She let go of him and went over to the refrigerator to get the rest of the ingredients.

Buzz! Buzz!

"Do you want me to get that?" she asked him as she looked around the refrigerator trying to decide what would go in their dinner.

"No, I got it."

She shrugged.

"Hmm."

She pulled out a bag of shredded cheddar cheese.

"This could work."

She closed the refrigerator door

"Travis, did you eat the last two avocado—"

She found him staring at his phone.

"Travis?"

He looked up, his expression tense.

"What is it?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing. It's just..."

He put the phone back down on the dining table nearby.

"Just Shawn getting himself into trouble again."

"Typical."

"Yeah."

She placed her head on the dashboard as tears spilled out of her.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Claudia sat down in front of Travis' headstone.

"Two months."

She looked up at Shawn, who was looking down at her glumly.

"He was dead for two months and not one of his friends thought to reach out and tell me. Including you."

Shawn raised his shoulders up and down quickly out of nervousness, then he put his hands in his black leather jacket.

"It wasn't safe for you to know yet."

"Bullshit!"

She got up.

"You know what? It's not even your fault. Or any of Travis' other friends. He should have told me this himself! He should have been brave enough to tell me himself!"

"He really wanted to. But he got threats on his apartment all the time. If he let you back in, you would've been a target too."

"I don't care! I want—"

She rubbed her hand against her forehead.

"I just want him here with me," she said hoarsely.

Shawn could do nothing for her, except watch her cry.

But somewhere in the back of his mind...

He really wanted to comfort her.

Hold her close.

Tell her everything would be alright.

And that the hitman who killed Travis would be brought to justice.

But he also knew the chances of any of that happening were slim to none.

And that right there...

That was the source of his devastation.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =