Kacia?

You were playing video games when you heard your mother scream from downstairs. Your eyes darted toward your door and down the short balcony that hung over your living room. You guessed that your mother was in the kitchen, but you let her shout again, just to make sure it was you she was calling for.

"Get down here, kid!" She bellowed from the kitchen. You proceeded to remove your headphones from your ears and walked to the balcony. Pressing your body against the wooden rail, you saw your mother waltz out of the kitchen. She jabbed a finger in the air without a word. Sickening worry lines were etched in her forehead and you could see little strands of greying hair sticking out of the rollers wrapped in her hair. You thought it was old age that made her so angry. She was most likely envious of your youth. You snickered under your breath as you walked down the stairs. Your eyes met your mother's eyes, which were a tired, evil black color, swirling with anger. You could see she wanted to smack you with the back of her hand. She then reached her hand out and dragged your arm, tugging you along to the kitchen door. Once there, your mother threw you against a wall. Your mother's brows furrow, but you didn't know why. The kitchen appeared normal, almost untouched. Your mother cleaned out the kitchen so often that it looked brand new every time. You stared up at her and smiled.

"You did a great job at cleaning, m--" Your mother put a hand to your face to silence you. Her fingers briskly stroke your lips and you almost feel like running away to scrub your lips and bleach them thoroughly. You glanced down at your feet.

"I want you to tell me something, kid." Your mother sighed and turned away from you. You hated that she called you "kid" when you weren't exactly a kid. But you couldn't do much anyway. She was extremely assertive and commanding.

"Yeah?" You said bluntly. Your mother cleared her throat and pointed in the corner at heap of clothes. You shook your head slowly, signaling that they weren't your own. Looking up at your mother, you realized that her face had softened a little. They most definitely weren't hers either. As soon as she saw the heap of clothes on the kitchen floor, she assumed they were yours. You walked closer to it and proceeded to pick it up anyway. It was heavier than you anticipated and you almost fell flat on your face. Instead of examining what might be inside, you steadied the load onto your thighs, as if you were bowing. You squinted questionably at your mother. Her eyes were wide with angst. Confused, you glared down at the pile of clothes. Buried in the heap was the body of a girl. Your mouth hung loose from your jaw once you recognized her face, although it was heavily sunken. 

"K-Kacia?" You stuttered. Kacia was a girl you used to go to school with. Her eyes were open and her irises were half hidden under her eyelids. You snagged away at the mysterious clothes. Blood tainted them all. You wondered how you had never noticed the stains. Your mother backed away slowly with her hands at her mouth. Her eyes had begun to water and you almost felt pity for her. Once the blood-stained clothes were removed, you came in contact with Kacia's body. Taut over slim bones was her pale, cold skin. You knew that she was dead. Your mother knew that too. But that wasn't the only reason why your mother was throwing up in the other corner, sobbing her eyes out. It was because plump, white maggots swarmed inside a gaping hole in Kacia's chest, where her heart was supposed to be. In your left hand was a human heart, rotting slowly in your bloody grasp. It was Kacia's.

Author's Note

Hm... Second Person is so much fun to write in...

Reviews

[The Fortieth]

What the heck, Mother? How the hell did Kacia even get there? Even though there are questions left unanswered, it's very creepy. I like it.

[Mother_Yolk]

Lol... I don't even know! I was bored until I saw a contest about twist ending then I thought I could write one too :D I don't think this one was very twisty though lol