We're Not Strangers Anymore

Chapter Thirty Five - The Nightmare

The two stood face-to-face, staring each other down with both a terrified and curious stare. It was the shell of Irene Broomer, that was for sure, but as for who was behind the frail and damaged skin, Charlie couldn't quite work it out.
The creature stood tall, keeping it's arms locked in to the waist.
'Charlie,' it whispered. 'How could you be so ignorant?'
The entity took a slow step forward as Charlie took a quick step back.
'Son, it's me,' it murmured again, the quiet and desolate tones tickling Charlie's ears uncomfortably.
'Get away from me,' he said with a shrill voice, 'you're not my Mum!'
'I think you'll find that I am, son.'
'No, you're not. My real Mum wouldn't torment me like this.'
'But darling,' it said, 'I am your real Mum.'
As Charlie took another step back, his mother, or the strange entity pretending to be his mother, crept forward.
'Kiss me,' the entity muttered.
'You aren't my Mum, I know you aren't!' Charlie shouted.
'Don't speak to your mother like that, young man!' the voice rasped back, pointing it's long claws towards Charlie's bristly chin.
'Get away from me!'
'Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?'
'Fuck off!'
Charlie stood up straight, grabbing a baseball bat that had suddenly appeared on the chest of drawers directly next to him.
'Have you heard... the exciting news?' it whispered, sticking out a large flesh-like tongue and licking the edge of the wooden door. 'Another murder.'
Charlie stuttered out: 'What do you mean?'
It began to laugh, jumping into the air and falling onto it's back.
'There's been another murder,' it whispered, and now Charlie watched in awe as the face of his mother slowly transformed into that of Mr Manley. The voice had changed, too, and it was the one voice that Charlie did not want to be hearing in a tense moment like this.
'There's been another murder, young Charlie. A murder in Belgrave. That of a traitor, so I hear.'
The face of Mr Manley began to smile crudely, a seemingly sexually menacing grin that only grew wider as Charlie grew intensely more frightened.
'Come closer, young Charlie. My Jamie has missed you, come round and see me soon. I want to stroke your hair.'
The vision of Mr Manley reached forward. Charlie placed a tensely firm hand on the bedroom door, fiercely slamming it shut behind him. As he ran towards the front door, it only seemed to get further and further away from him. The white door was now at least ten metres in front of him.
'No!' he screamed, running as fast as he could.
'Charlie, come back,' a cold voice whispered. It was his mother's voice, he recognised.
'You're not real! You're just in my head! You're just in my head!' Charlie shouted, reaching for an imaginary doorknob that wasn't really in front of him.
Uncle Pierce jumped up from the old and frail sofa and rushed into the master bedroom.
He examined Charlie up and down, placing a hand on top of his head. 'Everything okay, champ?'
'No,' Charlie said, and the words rolled off of his tongue with a sharp, bitter force. 'I want to go home now.'