Note to self: Don't do it, you son of a

MY INNOCENT CHILD

"Mommy!" my son cried, piping, with his frail arms outstretching towards me. "Uppies!"

Chortling lightly, I scooped the little loudmouth up who chuffed in my arms to snuggle closer. We're now in the cemetery, visiting my husband who died right before my son could see him.

He, then, tucked his face between my shoulder and neck. "This doesn't feels right. Your flesh is still warm," he whispered right next to my ear.

As I set my son down, a groundskeeper, with an arch gracing across his lips in chivalry, bounded to greet me. "Excuse me, Ma'am, but visiting hours is over."

My son stared straight into his eyes. "You're very old and you will die, soon."

I covered his mouth and bowed, apologizing to the said man before leaving.

"You shouldn't say such a thing, Cree," I said while we're walking to the gate.

"Mommy." I looked at my son and he was staring at the graves. "You'll soon be sleeping here, forever."

I crouched down. "Why are you like this, Cree?"

I felt his gentle hands caressing my cheeks. "Daddy left. He said he loves you and will see you, again... soon."

My brows creased and face tensed. I know it was dumb to be scared, but I couldn't help it.

"Carry me?" He gaze at me with eyes that are pleading.

I carried him before walking out of the cemetery, heading to the nearest fast food chain.

My son was staring at a child who's on a plastic hallway chair, kicking in the air, as they swung back and forth.

He then turned to me and said, "Mommy, it's a monster. We should bury it."

I've had enough and held his wrist before walking out of the fast food chain.

"Don't go home. He knows where you live," he told the man guarding the door.

I didn't mind him being shock and just dragged my son until we reached our home.

"Mommy, you're hurting me!" He kept wiggling from my hold and I quickly let go.

"That's not the right way to talk to people, Cree!" I shouted, gritted teeth from effort to remain silent.

His watery eyes enlarged and the hairs on the nape of his neck bristled. Tears slowly fall from his eyes and shoulders moved up and down.

"C-Cree." I sat on my knees before cruddling him in my arms.

He sobbed in my shoulder like a baby while repeatedly saying, "He told me to do it."

I did my best to calm him down before tucking him to bed. I stared at him as he sleep peacefully. Too big to be a baby but still very young. His fingers curled into the fabric, not clasping it tightly. He doesn't seem bad, but innocent.

I went to my room and laid on my bed. When the stars come out to play and the evening takes the color of the night, I felt a weight on my stomach. I slowly opened my eyes to be greeted by a shadow. I was about to scream when I realized that it was just Cree, staring at me... while I sleep.

"You smell different when you're awake, Mommy. But you still smell like a dead body," my son said, looking at me dead in the eyes.

I didn't remember being that scared in my life. And that was just the beginning.

"Mommy, someone's knocking on the door," Cree whispered cowardly that made me come back to reality.

He asked me to grab a midnight snack and we're now in the kitchen. The door he was talking about was the back door through the backyard.

The said person kept banging the door. The pounding grows in force and volume, the frame starting to crack. My son's screams doesn't make things any better.

"He's there. Don't open the door! He's coming! Mommy, Daddy is coming!" I couldn't breath, it felt as if someone is choking me.

"MOM!" The scream of my son and as the door flung open wake me up.

I carried him before running up the stairs, back to my room and locking the door. I laid him on the bed and covered both of our bodies with a thick blanket.

"Mommy, someone's standing outside the window." His desperate crying calms to a series of sobs and hiccoughs, his small body shivering in fear.

I breathed in and out, but air wouldn't enter my lungs knowing that we're on the second floor. I grab the picture of my husband inside the cabinet near my bed and showed it to him.

"Look. Here's Daddy. Don't be scared. Daddy doesn't want you to be scared," I whispered but he started crying uncontrollably and I tried to calm him down.

"H-He took me away from my first Mom, Mommy!" He said crying loudly. "He hid me under the dirt and made me sleep for a long time before I wake up and meet you. I hate him!"

I never heard something like that even in my nightmares. And now I'm hearing something that my mind won't be able to erase. The adrenaline flew over my veins, but I couldn't even scream.

I held him tight against my chest and covered his ears when I hear banging on door. His bright hazel brown eyes found mine as his miniature fingers grasped my hand before giving him a kiss on the forehead. A final hiccough of a sob, his body relaxed. He doesn't have time to realize what's happening as I twist his kneck with a violent jerk, accompanied by a dry snap of a sound as my eyes closed in tears and the burst open of the room door. At least, my angel is now safe from harm.

The second time I opened my eyes, I was back in the cemetery.. alone. I stared at the grave of my husband, and dusted the whole tombstone. It wasn't my husband's name, anymore. But mine.

Now, it was written in reverse. And from below.