My Aunt Sarah

Trigger Warning: Talk of suicide, parental abuse

Chapter 1

The Many-Faced Bitches

I never met my Aunt Sarah. She never had a good relationship with my mom. Neither did I. My mom was hard to have a relationship with. She was petty, vindictive, and cruel. But the biggest issue I had with my mom was how judgmental she was. Always sneering and gossiping about people. I hated it. My friends, their parents, people we knew. No one was safe from her barbs. Not even my Dad. My Dad was sweet and kind. Don't know why he stayed with my mom.

I know why he married her. She was pregnant with me, but all the abuse he took from her. Just hollowed him out. The big bearded man from my childhood. Whose green eyes I shared. Whose laugh made me feel safe, whose hug shielded me from danger. MY sanctuary from her. But by the time I was his age when he met my mom. He was more of a shambling corpse. His face hollow and sunken, his frame thin. He was a shadow of the man I knew. It broke my heart to leave for college. I felt I was abandoning him. Leaving him with her. But he was adamant I start my life. He even made one of his jokes. Something about trucks, he laughed. It was empty. Like everything, he was now. I told him I loved him. He said he loved me more.

I wasn't surprised when he killed himself.

A year after I left. It destroyed me don't get me wrong, my heart broke. I was a mess. But I realized I knew it was coming. I still blame myself. I was a kid, I didn't see the warning signs. I know them now. I remember flying home for the funeral. I went to MIT. Got a scholarship, not a full ride. But enough to make it manageable for my family. I hated thinking about it, but with my Dad dead, I don't know who was gonna pay my fees. My mom didn't work. I could. Without my Dad, I needed $20,000. That was just the fees, I would have to find somewhere to live. I definitely couldn't afford the student accommodations. How would I pay for food?

All this was storming in my head on the flight home. Luckily it wasn't a long flight. Boston to Detroit is only 2 hours. I landed, a little before 6 in the morning. I always loved early morning Michigan. I know I'm in the minority on that. The cold, the dark. I always went on early morning runs. It made me feel like I was the only person in the world. I always loved that feeling.

I exited the airport, I got a text as I landed. My mom wasn't going to pick me up. She was 'busy.' Waited till the last minute to tell me. Classic mom. I got an uber. It only takes 45 minutes to get to Ann Arbor from Detroit. Depending on traffic. I got there pretty quick. I thanked my driver and got out. My old home. It looked so much smaller than I remembered and cold. Empty. I grabbed my bag and walked up to the front door. I went to knock. It was my house. At least it was. When my Dad was here. I opened the door. It felt different. Not surprisingly. The only redeeming part was gone. No sign of my mom. But I knew where she would be.

I dropped my bag on the couch. Walked up the stairs, past my room. I looked in. Surprisingly it was just as I left it. I thought my mom would have turned it into her workout room. Like she had been threatening to since I was six. I walked down the hall and knocked on the door. I always had to knock.

"Enter."

I opened the door, and there she was. My mom, Carol. Sitting at her mirror. Doing her makeup. Her hair was in that ridiculous bob. She'd had the same haircut for as long as I could remember. A blonde bob, blonde not being her natural color. I always thought it looked like her hair was melting. She didn't even look at me, still busy working away on her makeup.

"James." She said coldly.

"Hey, mom."

"How was your flight?"

So the small talk began. This was one of our two states. The other was a screaming match. We had quite a few of those. I didn't miss them. She always managed to make me feel as if they were my fault. She was good at that. We did the required small talk. Was the traffic bad? How was the weather? How is school going? I hated it, but I was too tired to get into a fight. She was saying something about Tina who lived down the street. She had slept with a pool boy or something. The cheap whore had the gall to be seen with him in public.

I thought about Tina, a nice lady. Her husband had died last year. My mother was acting like she was a slut. So soon after her husband passed. The same judgmental bullshit she had been spouting my whole life. Jab after jab at Tina as she was caking on more and more makeup. I always thought she looked like a clown. I realized at that moment where I got my baggage. About women in makeup. I made a mental note of bringing that up with my therapist. Oh shit, could I afford to go to her now?

I pushed that from my mind.

"I'm sorry I'm tired." I said, interrupting my mom. Which she did not like.

"I'm going to have a nap. Let me know when we need to leave."

"OK, James. Your suit is in your closet." She went back to her makeup.

I walked down the hall. Opened the door to my room and sat down. I checked out the suit. As soon as I saw it. I knew what it was.

It was one of my dad's. Not when he was younger, that would have been too big for me. It was one of his skinny suits. Later in life, after my mother had sucked the life right out of him. He used to joke about his 'skinny clothes.' Like it was funny, not a warning sign of what my mother had done to him. That manipulative bitch, putting me in one of my dead dad's suits. I wasn't going to let that happen. I locked my door, something my Dad put on for me. I opened my window and climbed out. My old sneaking out route.

I landed in the backyard, jumped the fence, and jogged down the road. I ran for a few blocks, stopped at a familiar-looking blue house. Walked up and knocked on the door. After a minute the door opened. A sweet older-looking black woman opened the door.

"Hi, V."

"James, so good to see you." She hugged me, she only reached my stomach with me being tall and her being short.

"You're still tall I see." She smiled, missing a couple of teeth.

"Yes, I haven't shrunk in the big city."

"Come in, come in."

Viola was my best friend's mom. I loved her. She was the nicest woman I ever met. She looked after me better than my mom ever did. I use to ask her to adopt me. She just smiled. Know I was older, they were always sad smiles.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your father. David was a lovely man."

"Yeah, he used to be the best."

"So, what do you need?"

"That obvious?"

"Yes, I doubt you jogged those 3 blocks from your house to catch up." She smiled, god that smile made me feel safe.

"I need to borrow a suit."

"You lost your bag with it?"

"Something like that."

"Well, Issac left a bunch of clothes with me. I'm sure he has a suit suitable for the funeral."

Viola took me upstairs into Issac's room. My best friend. God, I practically lived in this place. We used to play video games, talk about girls. Out workbench was even still here. Still full of wire, batteries loose metal. The spoils of our obsession with pulling things apart to see how they worked. We were both engineers. We always knew it. We used to dream about building things together. Flying cars, mechs. All that cool shit we loved as kids. God, I miss him.

"You talk much with Issac?" Viola was looking through some old boxes of clothes.

"Ah, yeah. We had a good talk last week. When he found out about my Dad."

"Good, you boys were always good for each other. He was so energetic he pushed you out of that shell you had. While you are calm and collected, stopped Issac from doing anything stupid."

"Not everything. He did join the army."

Viola moved on from the boxes to the wardrobe.

"Well, he made his choice."

Issac wasn't lucky like me. He didn't get a scholarship. He was just as smart as me. So he joined the army, so he could pay his way through school. Not that he had much of a choice. A poor black kid, that's an army recruiter's wet dream. He was gone a week after graduation. Almost two years ago now. I deferred a year. Not wanting to leave my Dad.

"Ah, here we are." Viola pulled out a black suit. It was simple but smart. I think it was Issac's prom suit. We were about the same build then. Issac is much more jacked now. Viola passes me the suit. I look it over.

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Of course James, your family." I hug her again.

"I'll see you at the funeral."

A pause.

"Sorry James. I won't be there."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is your arthritis acting up?"

"No, I wasn't given an invitation."

My mind buzzed. It did that when I got angry.

"What? Your family, how could she...?"

"We both know why she didn't."

"That racist bitch."

"James, please. I remember what it's like to lose a husband. It's the hardest thing one can go through. Losing your person."

"Yeah well, my mom and Dad weren't that close."

"I'm sorry I upset you."

"Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry about."

I looked at my watch. An hour.

"I've got to go. Come if you want, my mom be damned"

"I'll think about it." I hug her again.

"I love you V."

"I love you too, kid."

I walked home. Not wanting the inevitable confrontation with my mother. The various ways she was gonna guilt trip me playing through my mind. I bet she's gonna say my Dad wouldn't want us to fight. She always pulls that shit.

I make it home, jump the fence, climb the drain. Jump into my room through the window. I should probably get changed. I put on Issac's suit. I look pretty good. Should I look good for my dad's funeral? Can't think about that right now. I looked down at my watch. 45 minutes. My head was spinning. I needed to clear my mind. When I get like this there's only thing that helps. Cumming. I take off Issac's suit. Don't want cum on that. I walk into my bathroom. Lock the door.

You need two lines of defense when jerking off in the same house as my mother. She tends to burst into rooms unannounced. I open my phone and start going through porn sites. Should I jerk off before my father's funeral? Jesus, stop thinking. I start skimming through the videos, the auto-play thumbnails showing women getting railed in various ways. Nothing's working for me. Right as I was about to give up. There. A video.

A redhead laying on her bed looks like she's playing with herself. I do have a thing for redheads. I open the video. The video doesn't disappoint. A young woman, pale white skin, red hair, large tits. Really checking all my personal boxes. She's pretty too. She starts to play with her clit. I start to rub my cock. She starts to moan. Not a fake porn moan either. This is real. She looks right at the camera. Blue eyes. God this is working for me. She speeds up, putting some fingers in. My dick swells to full size. Fitting snugly into my closed hand, the thick member twitching. She grabs a toy, she turns it on. It starts to buzz, she puts it on her clit. She moans even louder, and I speed up my strokes. She starts to breathe heavily, her breast heaving. The pre-cum starts to leak out of the head of my cock. I apply over my shaft and glide over the skin. I feel my balls tighten I know I'm close. The woman starts to cum as well, she gets louder and louder.

"I'm cumming!" The women yells

More moans come from the phone, that's all I need. I grab some toilet paper, the sound she makes sends me over the edge. Right before, I rub the tip of my cock. Which sends waves of pleasure up my spine. I blow my load into the toilet paper. My vision flashes as I keep cumming. As I come crashing down, I fall backward onto the toilet. My heart racing as I breathe heavily. Bathing in the afterglow.

As I come down, I look over to my phone. The woman has sat up on her bed, she's looking at the camera.

"Thanks for that." She winks.

I feel a tug at my heart. Jesus, she's not talking to you asshole. She doesn't know who you are. She's a video, don't start this para-social shit. It's not healthy. I go to close my browser, I stop. I bookmark her page and close it. I clean up and get ready.

I walk down the stairs, Issac's suit on. My mother is on her phone in the kitchen. She's talking to someone, I don't care enough to listen. I grab my bag and wait by the door. She finishes bitching, and walks over to the door. She stops and looks at my suit.

"That isn't your suit."

"No, it's one of Issac's."

"Issac's? No, it's not. A fat ass like you wouldn't fit into one of Issac's suits."

"Jesus mom, can we not do this now?" I stare at the ground.

"Go upstairs and put on your suit."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"Can we just go please?"

"Go and put on your god damn suit."

I open the door, my mom grabs the door and tries to close it. I grab it and pry it open, and walk outside. She follows.

"Don't you dare do this James. This is your father's funeral, stop being so disrespectful."

I go to open the car door, it's locked. It's an expensive car, big and gaudy. I hate it.

"Get upstairs, NOW!"

"Open the door, or I'm walking," I say calmly, it takes all my strength not to shout.

"Don't make me raise my voice, you petulant little shit."

"Open the door, or I will walk. I'll make sure to walk past your little club and tell all your many-faced bitches. Exactly how bad of a mother you are." Once again, calm as I can. My mom just stares at me.

"Get. In. The. Car."

She unlocks it, and I get in. We start driving to the cemetery. Awkward silence all the way. I stare out the window, looking at the remnants of my childhood move by. As much as I loved this place, all these memories of my Dad. This place has been poisoned by my mom.

"Of all the days, you had to pick this one to have one of your temper tantrums."

I ignore her.

"Your father would be ashamed of your behavior, acting like a spoiled child."

I continue to ignore her. As soon as she realizes she can't get a rise out of me. She stops.

After a few more minutes, we park at the cemetery. We get out. Not a word was spoken. Just silently moving.

It was a simple service, nothing too expensive. Not that my Dad would have cared, he was a Canadian mountain man. At least he was once. But I couldn't help but notice how cheap it was. My mom didn't wanna break the bank. The priest talks, but I don't listen. I don't believe in God, I don't think my Dad did either. I don't care if my mom does. She dragged me and my Dad to church every week. More for the community credit, than any belief in Jesus. If she is, she's a shitty Christian. There weren't many people at the ceremony. A couple of my dad's cousins, his brother.

Uncle Theo. We weren't close. He and my Dad had a rocky relationship. He keeps staring at my mom. Looking her up and down, like a predator stalking his prey. I know that look too well, I feel a wave of nausea hit me. The coffin starts to lower and we throw our flowers. Roses, I'm pretty sure my Dad didn't like roses. Theo walks over to my mom, he puts his hand on the small of her back. I can't stand this. I start to leave.

"James, where are you going?" My mom calls over.

"I'm going for a walk."

"Don't be late to the wake."

I keep walking.

I walk through a park. Just trying to clear my head. I hate coming back, all the shit it brings up. The year I was gone, was the happiest year of my life. I was doing well at school, I met people I liked. I enjoyed it there. I try to think about my favorite memories here. Me and my Dad going fishing, I didn't like it that much. But my Dad loved going with me. I stopped us going, now I would go every weekend with him. Meeting Issac, god so many good memories with him. Getting in trouble with Mr. Laramy for taking his computer apart. How impressed he was when we put it back together and it ran better.

I walk past an old parking lot. Empty, I stop. Look around. A small church on the corner, the stained glass Jesus staring down as you walk past. I'm pretty sure I got my first-hand job in that parking lot. Yeah, Nicole. My high school girlfriend. She was super religious so we never went any further than that. But this is definitely where it happened. In my Dad's old truck, we went to the movies. It had a sexy scene, and on the ride back she told me to turn into the parking lot. I thought she was gonna take me to the church, instead, she pulled my cock out. Sitting in my Dad's old truck, she tugged me off. God, I was so nervous. It took like five minutes for me to cum. Plus that only happened because she whispered in my ear.

"I want you to cum for me."

Sound is a big thing for me. That sent me over the edge and I came all over my Dad's car. Not my finest moment. But that was a good memory. Nicole felt super guilty after that though and promised that she would never do anything like that again. So we didn't, we dated all through high school. We only broke up because she moved to California. I wonder what she's up to. I should catch up. I hope she left the Church, it made her so miserable.

My thought went to MIT, and how I couldn't wait to get back. My mom never encouraged my engineering. But the Professors at school are so supportive and encouraging. Makes me feel confident in my abilities for once. Dad always said he didn't know how someone so smart could come from him. Fuck I miss my Dad. His laugh, god his laugh. I thought he was a giant when I was a kid, he laughed with his whole body. He shook like his whole body was being squeezed.

I start to cry, this is how I deal with grief. This is the same thing that happened when my dog died. I didn't feel anything for a week. Then suddenly while I was playing with Issac. It hit me, and I started to sob. Viola held me and told me he was loved. Damn, that woman is amazing. I let myself cry on a park bench for a while. After I let it out. I check my watch, started 20 minutes ago. Great, I'm late to my father's wake. I get up and head back to the cemetery.

I walk up to the cemetery, the wake is at the funeral home across the street. Great business placement. I walk up to the funeral home, there are a bunch of cars out the front. Seems a lot of people are here to pay their respects to my Dad. Probably a lot of them from before he married my mom. I walk in, the main room is booked out. I pass dozens of people, all milling around.

I see my mom, flanked by her many-faced bitches. A pack of colossal cunts. The whispers and sharp glares at their prey. God, I hated those judgmental hyenas. I look around for a bar, don't find one. Why would I? It's a wake, you moron. I look around for some familiar faces. I notice a few, dads cousins. Theo, gross. Then I notice Viola. Sitting down, holding a plate of food. I walk over.

I sit down, Viola notices me and smiles.

"James, you look so good in that suit."

"Thanks, V, how are you doing? Food OK?"

"No, not at all. But you don't want good food at a wake." She could always make me laugh.

"Thanks for coming."

"For you? Always."

"Thanks for always being there V."

"Of course, now enough of this soppy stuff. Go and do the rounds. People will want to give you their condolences."

"Dad wouldn't have wanted any of this."

"Funerals aren't for the dead. They are for the living James."

I kiss her on the cheek and go to do my rounds.

The white faces mourner start to mix. I find it difficult to remember a person as soon as they leave. I go through dozens of people. I feel my phone buzz, I excuse myself and open it. It's an email. From the MIT accommodation services. They need to know if I am staying in college accommodations. God, this is not what I need right now. My head starts to buzz. Jesus my whole life is falling apart right now. I feel a hand touch my shoulder. I turn, and a woman looks at me. The first thing I notice is her eyes, light, silver-gray. Then her long red hair, flowing past her shoulders. Late 20's, early thirties. She smiles at me.