The Hurt Locker

A spot of safety in the roads

She'd never find another man like Alex. She knew that. She also knew he couldn't stay. No one would ever be able to stay with her. That was how it had to be. She was crazy. She knew that.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Norman called to her.

She turned around to face him, a sad smile on her face. It was for the best. She knew that. She watched as he descended down the steps towards her. "There's still some dinner left over...do you want anything?"

He shook his head, reaching the bottom step. "No, I'm not that hungry." She felt his eyes on her as she walked back to the kitchen. She could hear him following after her. There was no avoiding him. "He would have destroyed you." She couldn't face him. He always did this. It hurt her. She hated that this was how he was—how they were. But there wasn't anything she could do to change it. "No one will ever understand." She knew he hated it when she ignored him, but what could she say. She couldn't tell him that she'd fallen in love with the man. "Mother."

Her eyes were daggers to him. "Norman, what do you want?" She could have killed him—her own son. She couldn't ever control her anger when she got mad...she always went a little mad. Nothing ever went her way. Nothing ever stayed happy. Her life was a wet and dreary mess. She couldn't clean it up. The puddle only got bigger—deeper. She was drowning.

His eyes were an ugly shade of black. She's stared into those eyes a thousand times, and they could never save her. She was already gone. But he didn't care. He only ever cared about himself. "Why did you tell him you killed my father?"

She glared at him. "Because that's the truth, Norman." She didn't regret a thing—that was the worst part. She never regretted anything. She had no remorse. She needed help. But only Alex could help her...and he was gone.

"You know that's not the truth—you know I killed him." He nearly spat in her face. He was always defensive when it came to the issue of his father's death. Who killed Sam Bates? Nobody really knows.

But she knew. She knew exactly what happened that day. It would haunt her for the rest of her life. She couldn't deny it anymore. There was something wrong with them. Something was something very wrong with them. She stared into him, searching for a sign of life. "Norman."

"I was defending you." The tears started to well up in his eyes. This was a common look for Norman. They didn't exactly have happy days at the Bates' house. They never really had a moment of relief. They lived in constant chaos—they didn't know anything but chaos. There was no escaping it.

And she dragged Alex right into it. She always dragged innocent people in. This was how she lost people. This was how she lost her son. "Norman." He knew the truth. They all knew the truth. She couldn't shove it away anymore. It was too much. She needed to get help.

"Why are you treating me like I don't exist?" He was slowly catching on. She was afraid of what would happen if he did, so she ignored him and pushed her way into the hall to grab her keys. She needed to get out—the outside world was her only escape. "You can't run from me, Mother. We belong together."

It had been a day since he'd seen her. He was a wreck without her. Alex came home from work, the scowl still on his face. No matter what he did he couldn't take his mind off her—what she'd said. How he managed to get himself mixed up with her...he didn't know. But the worst part of it all was that he missed her. He still wanted to be with her. She confessed to murdering her husband, and he still loved her with everything he had. He plopped down on the couch and stared at the wall. It had been a long day of paperwork and convenience store robberies. He needed to relax, but he knew he wasn't going to—not with her out there alone. He wanted her more than anything. There was no avoiding it; there was no denying it. He loved her.

The sound of faint knocking shattered his daze. He sighed, getting up from the couch to peer through the window. His heart ached at the sight of her. She seemed just as sad as he was, and that killed him. He opened the door and stared at her. As sad as he was, she'd have to speak first. He deserved that much.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure what she could say. She bit her lip, a feeling of regret quickly filling her. Leaving seemed to be the better option. But as she turned to go, he grabbed her. Her eyes glanced up at his. "I'm sorry," she muttered weakly.

He furrowed his brow. "For what?" He kept a firm grip on her arm. If he let go she'd leave for good. And he couldn't handle that—he couldn't bare that.

She shook her head lightly. "I don't know." She wasn't really sure why she came. Normally she would have waited for him to show up at her doorstep and apologize, but she needed him. She needed him more than anyone.

She was unpredictable. That was one of the reasons he was so drawn to her. She made his life feel more spontaneous. He needed that. He needed her. But he wasn't really one to apologize. He never was. "Why are you here?"

Her eyes never left his. Her life depended on it. "I came to tell you the truth."