summary: grief can swallow you whole and spit you back out as something completely different

in it's dark depths

Like how a lit match can transform into a roaring wildfire so did the whisper of one grieving mother turn her daughter's death into something much more. Just like a wildfire devours everything in its path, this particular fire had one target in mind. Sock.

Summer was over but its heat still lingered. Sock sat in his room looking outside his window. No one outside could see him, of course, with his curtains closed but he stared off down the street. If he squinted, he could make out exactly where the accident happened.

His heart thudded in his chest at the thought. Four weeks, two days, and three and a half hours. Tomorrow was the first day of school. Sock used to be excited about going to high school but it all changed. Jojo wouldn't be going with him anymore.

She was dead, he reminded himself. A wave of grief nearly choked him. Tears prickled his eyes from keeping them at bay.

He would not cry again; he had no right. It's my fault that Jojo is dead. If I hadn't said no to her plans… if I hadn't called her heartless she'd still be here. Sock angrily swiped his face from the tears that manage to fall. Pushing himself off the window he faced his darken room.

Sock's room was stifling in the heat. The A/C wasn't on and with him shut in his room all day and the window and door closed he could feel the beads of sweat. Still, even in the stuffy heat, Sock made no move to leave his room.

He laid down on his bed looking at the blank ceiling. Sock could hear his parents moving around the kitchen. They were preparing dinner but he had no appetite. Sock closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep when he heard the footsteps approaching his room.

There were two knocks on the door before it opened. Sock kept his steady breathing and waited until his mother gave up and went back downstairs. After another minute he opened them and turned to the side. His open door let the sounds easier to hear. His parents were talking about Jojo's mother again. About the rumors she was spreading and how it was ruining their lives. Already they had decided not to send Sock to school tomorrow and tonight they discussed moving away. However, Sock had had no idea how serious it had became because they already had a house picked out.

"How are we going to tell him?" Sock's mom asked her husband.

Sock could hear the shrug in his father, "It doesn't really matter. Napoleon already suspects that we're moving. We can't stay here after everything Linda's been saying. I know she's grieving but it's still no way to behave. Especially blaming the accident on our son. Because it was an accident."

"I know, I know," she replied. There was a pause in their talk as dinner utensils scraped against their plate. Sock held his breath knowing what came next. How Jojo's mom, Linda, blamed him for the accident; how he actually pushed her into the street and was hit by a car. Never mind that the driver drove off and the police were still looking for them, or that he shut himself off for the rest of the summer reliving her death over and over again. Agonizing every detail to see if he could've done something different to prevent it. But no, none of that mattered to Jojo's mother, all she cared about was throwing the blame on a fourteen year old.

Sock squeezed his eyes shut and hoped for a dreamless slumber.

Sock shot up from his bed breathing heavily. His sheets were twisted around his waist and he had sweat dripping down his body. He took a minute to rearrange his thoughts and realize it was all a nightmare. It was the same one, Jojo getting ran over only this time she went under the car and he could hear every bone breaking under the weight of the car. He shuddered still hearing the snapping of bones. His dreams weren't getting better but Sock never mentioned it to his parents. They had enough to worry about.

After the move four months ago Sock started high school and everything seemed normal. He tried so hard to be normal so his parents wouldn't worry but it was reaching the breaking point. Getting up Sock made his way down to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was a lame excuse but it beat laying back down.

With a cup in his hands he sipped his drink wondering what Jojo's mom was doing. Was she angry when they moved? Had she stopped blaming him for his friend's death? Sock paused at that thought and placed his glass down on the counter. He walked to the small kitchen window looking out onto the street. A lone figure stood in the middle of the street. Sock couldn't tell in what direction the figure was looking at.

A chill ran down his spine when the figure pulled down its hood and smile. They were facing him. Sock ran back up to his room and ducked under his sheets. There was harsh breathing inside his room and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"You killed me," the voice hissed. Sock jumped at how close the person was and curled into a ball covering his ears. "You KILLED me!"

"I didn't," Sock mumbled holding his head between his hands as he felt hands clutch his shoulders. His eyes sprang open and Sock blinked in terrified confusion. His new bedroom was nearly dark with just the small nightlight on. He glanced frantically around for someone else but came up empty.

A nightmare. Another one. A nightmare inside of another one. He wanted to sob from the exhaustion. These dreams disrupted his sleep so frequently that he could only get two to three hours of sleep a night. And when this happened so often it eventually added to his overall stress. A new school that alienated him. His parents' relationship on the rocks due to the move. And this overwhelming unjust guilt.

Sock had reached his breaking point.

Going down the stairs he froze midway down. On the floor were his parents. Dead and bloody.

His heart thudded on his neck as he surveyed the room in shock. Looking down Sock saw his own hands coated with dried blood as well as his clothing.

He had just killed his parents. In his sleep.