Wake up… zzzzz.

Wake up… zzzzz.

“Wake up, Morguey Boy!”

Corey rubbed his eyes and saw a familiar but blurry overbearing figure looming over him.

“What did we do last night? I drank so much wine during that drunk Bible reading I must have passed out.”

The familiar figure was becoming clearer as Corey sat up … his mistress Bitchell. They had spent the night together drinking and reading the Bible.

“You don’t remember?” Bitchell said. “Oh, what fun it was. I think you’ve still got the butt plug in your ass. You might want to take that out.” Bitchell giggled to herself. “I completely dominated you.” She stroked Corey’s hair. “Anyway, that’s besides the point. You need to get up. Today is your big day … the day you’re meeting your mother!”

Corey sat bolt upright, feeling sick. He jumped up and ran into the bathroom, before emptying his guts into the toilet bowl.

Bitchell followed him in. She held back Corey’s hair, wiped the vomit from his mouth, and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You’ve been waiting for this your whole life. I know it might be difficult for you, but you’ll feel better afterwards.”

Corey got up and looked in the mirror. He took a deep breath and gave out a large sigh. “OK, I think I can do this. But I’ll have to make sure I look my best for mummy dearest.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Corey spent the next two hours picking out his darkest items of clothing and making sure his eye liner was as perfect as could be.

“I want to be like a reflection of my mother’s heart. Dark and cold.” “You look perfect,” responded Bitchell “C’mon, let’s go.”

They both got into Corey’s car. He owned a Bugatti, which he purchased after he saw his favourite influencer Andrew Tate tweet about one. It was easily affordable from all the money he had grifted from his brainwashed online cult followers. Corey sat in the driver’s seat and looked seriously on edge. He turned to Bitchell with a stern look on his face. “Of all places, I can’t believe she’s making me meet her at a church. Stupid whore.”

“It was an odd stipulation for this meeting, I agree, but I’m sure she means well,” Bitchell responded. “I can tell you’re nervous … let me drive.”

“If you insist. Plus, I’m so hung over I can barely see straight.”

There was tension in the air during the drive. It was thick, real thick, thicker than a dyslexic fairy. Bitchell was trying to reassure Corey that he had made the right decision by accepting his mother’s invitation.

“How long has it been since you saw her, Corey?”

“I can’t even remember. My childhood is such a blur. I must have only been 8 or 9 when she abandoned me.”

“You’re doing the right thing, you know. You’re giving her a chance to redeem herself and apologize for what she did.”

Corey looked at Bitchell and scowled. He could feel his alter ego Edgelord Morgue taking over. “What the fuck do you know about what she did?!” he screamed at the top of his voice. “I’m the RTS sufferer. Not YOU!!” He started bashing his head against the car window. “I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.”

“Calm down, Corey. Take a deep breath, we’re almost there. You need to find your zen space.”

They finally pulled up to the church. Corey took a few deep breaths to calm himself. They both got out of the car.

“I’ll come with you, for moral support,” Bitchell said in an insistent tone. It wasn’t a request … it was a statement. Corey looked at her and just shrugged.

As they made their way towards the church entrance, Corey started to see flashes of terrifyingly vivid images of Hell, like scenes out of Dante’s Inferno. Intense bright hues of red and orange engulfed his mind’s eye. The screams of the damned deafened him. It was a mental assault on all his senses. He began to feel a great weight upon his chest, which made it hard to proceed. The anger he had felt towards his mother all his life was sharpening dramatically. He started to feel like he was choking. “Can’t breathe,” he muttered. Flashes of Hell kept tormenting him. His legs were heavy. He was sweating profusely from the imagined heat, but it was all too real for him. He could practically smell the burning and brimstone. It was almost too much to bear, but he kept going forward with the hope of getting some closure on his tainted past.

When Corey arrived at the entrance, he stopped. After what felt like an eternity, he reached for the door handle. As he grasped it, an intense burning sensation surged through him. He immediately let go, letting out a yelp. Corey checked his hands for burns, but there was nothing there.

“What was that?” questioned Bitchell.

“NOTHING.” Corey was highly agitated. He took another deep breath and opened the door, walking into the darkness of the church.

It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the church.

Bitchell followed close behind.

As Corey started to see more clearly, he could make out a woman sat at one of the pews, facing away from him… “Mother?”.

The woman slowly stood up and turned around. It was unmistakable, that face that haunted his nightmares, even if some years older.

“Corey, is that you?”

His mother’s voice was like a thousand needles piercing Corey’s ear drums. It hurt Corey to hear her speak after so long. The voice that once upon a time he had associated with care and nurture was now a voice of pure pain and torture.

“What have you done to yourself Corey?” she said. “Dressing up like a vampire or something? You look so pale. When was the last time you got any sunshine?”

“I am what I am. You made me this way, mother!”

“I played no part in this.” Her tone was dismissive. She looked him up and down as though he were something repulsive. Just as she had done the last time they were together.

“You played your part, of course you did. When you left me, my world was turned upside down. I had to recreate myself. You messed me up with your indoctrination and left me with RTS. I still fear Hell to this day. I always tried to please you as a child, I tried to be a good Christian, a good son”. A tear rolled down Corey’s cheek.

“Hah! You weren’t good by any means. You were an absolute pain … a monster. You know your father and I never wanted you. You were an ugly mistake. We weren’t ready to have a child together, but it was God’s will. You were too much to bear, a millstone of sin around my neck. I had to get away. We all make mistakes. … you were my biggest.”

“Fuck you! I don’t need you and I don’t care to hear about your petty regrets. I have a whole community of fans that love me like a God! Why would I need you back in my life? I don’t even know why I agreed to meet you. FUCK! What even possessed you to reach out after all these years?”

“I’m sure she has her reasons, Corey,” Bitchell abruptly interrupted. “You wanted to make amends, right?” Bitchell looked over to Corey’s mum with a look of concern.

“If you say so.” Corey’s mum rolled her eyes. It was plain that she had a very low opinion of Bitchell.

Corey started pacing around in circles, waving his left hand frantically, and keeping his right hand completely still. He looked uncomfortable … severely uncomfortable. “I need some water and fresh air,” he snapped and started making his way to the exit. Just before leaving, he made a sharp turn and went into the bathroom.

“Thank you for doing this,” Bitchell said to Corey’s mum, in a hushed voice.

“Do you have it?” Corey’s mother replied sharply. “We agreed $5,000, right?”

“All in good time,” Bitchell replied. “We’re not done here yet.”

In the toilet, Corey was having a breakdown. After emptying his tiny bladder, he collapsed to the floor and went into something like a catatonic state. He was just staring blankly at the wall, repeating one word over and over: Mistake.

Fifteen minutes passed. Bitchell and Corey’s mother had been sitting awkwardly waiting for Corey’s return. When it was apparent he wasn’t coming back, Bitchell stood up and walked right up to Corey’s mother and spoke to her in a calm, quiet, calculated manner. “You know the real reason I asked you to arrange this meeting with Corey?”

“I just assumed you were a friend trying to do a good thing, to be honest. I didn’t really care that much once you offered the money. It seems clear Corey doesn’t want to continue with this meeting, so please give me the money. I just want to be on my way and get on with my life. I feel nothing for Corey … other than revulsion.”

“OK, OK.” Bitchell stared at Corey’s mother. “Corey is an amazing person. He’s going to change the world, you know?”

“That’ll be the day.” Corey’s mother seemed to be struggling to contain her laughter.

“I can’t believe how you’ve mistreated him. He deserves a better mother than you. A position I’ll gladly fill.”

Corey’s mum gave a confused look. Bitchell walked right up to her.

“Just one more thing.” She leaned in and whispered into Corey’s mother’s ear … “There never was any money.” She pulled out a knife hidden under her coat and thrust it – efficiently – into Corey’s mother’s abdomen. She clasped her hand over her mouth to stop her from making a sound. Bitchell callously looked her straight in the eyes, as the life drained out of them. She whispered in her ear once again: “Meeting me was the biggest mistake you ever made. To me, you’re not even human.”

Bitchell stood over the corpse of Corey’s mother and smiled. Then she casually made her way to the exit, stopping off at the bathroom to clean off the blood from her hands. She saw Corey still sat on the floor, staring at the wall, mumbling to himself. Corey didn’t even notice Bitchell walk in and clean up. She went over to him and, in a motherly way, put her hand on his shoulder … “Corey.”

Corey stopped mumbling and looked up at Bitchell. “Mother?”

“She’s gone, Corey. There’s nothing more for us here. Let me take you home.”

Corey stood up and shakily held Bitchell’s hand. Bitchell guided him to the car. Neither of them looked back towards the church where the body lay.

The journey home was completed in total silence. Once they pulled up to Corey’s apartment, Bitchell explained that she had to go and see to her husband. She had been gone longer than usual and didn’t want the crippled cuckold getting too suspicious. “You’ll be ok on your own tonight, right Corey?”

“I’ll be fine. I don’t need anyone.”

Bitchell sensed doubt in Corey’s tone but knew what a strong individual he was, so wasn’t overly concerned. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Then we can start planning our next move to bring down the PI.”

Corey looked at Bitchell blankly and didn’t say a word. He got out of the car and made his way up to his apartment.

Corey was mumbling to himself again. He opened up his cupboard where he kept all the toys for when he and Bitchell would play. There was a large selection of ropes which they would use for shibari. A whole host of different colours, thicknesses and textures. Bitchell would often tie Corey up in all sorts of comprising positions and have her wicked way with him.

Corey took the mass of different ropes from the cupboard and picked up his favourite one. It was a thick black rope, very uncomfortable to be tied up in. He made a noose from the rope, laid it on the floor and stared at it for a while. Then he picked up another rope and did the same thing, laying the second noose atop the first. Corey made noose after noose after noose, as if every noose was a representation of a time he was hurt by his mother. In a way it was a cathartic experience. He felt his attachment to his mother dissipate with each new noose. By the time he was done, he had a tower of nooses, all on top of one another, some 3ft in height. Corey looked down the hole in the centre of the tower of nooses and mumbled to himself, “There is really only one noose. One is all I need”. Corey wasn’t talking metaphorically, he really believed there was only one. He was completely delusional.

Corey attempted to fit his head through the “one” noose. He tried over and over but couldn’t get his head all the way through the 3ft tower of nooses. Why weren’t they just one noose? It made no sense.

After exhausting himself with numerous attempts to fit his head through the nooses, Corey collapsed to the floor and burst into tears. It

finally occurred to him that there wasn’t just one noose. It was a myriad of nooses, but all with the same function. He picked the first noose he made from the pile and gazed at it, feeling defeated. He tied the other side to one of the ceiling hooks that Bitchell and he used for shibari. He grabbed a nearby chair, stood on it and stuck his head through the noose. As he kicked the chair away, he spoke his final word…

Mistake.