D a y M e m o r y 2,

"How many times have I told you to stop contacting me? Isn't it enough that I let you see your son? I already have to take trips back and forth from here to Britain to let you have time with him, and now you want to tell me some nonsense?" The man with gold hair fumes--he--pinches his nose in frustration. "Have I not been fair to you?"

"I-I-you have but listen to me!" The woman said, her big blue eyes wide, eyeing her eldest son. He's watching by the bedroom door, his brown eyes wide in anticipation. "Just like my precious one here, our son he-he's special!"

"I know my son is special," he scoffs, "he is my son. He's destined for great things."

"Yes-no-! What I meant is that he's like me-like us!" The woman signals between her and her eldest son. "He-he has powers too-!"

The man rolls his eyes. "What nonsense are you talking about now-?"

"Listen! Listen-! You know kids get curious right? Well, our boy was playing near the stairs, right? And I left quickly to get some water-."

"You left our son unsupervised?" He roared, a heavy trace of anger in his tone. "He's three-!"

"Which, I am very aware how reckless a minute in toddler time can be. B-but I swear he was okay! " The woman said, chirp stuck to her voice. "Then I came back, and his skull was cracked open! He must have fell back and hit his head on the stairs-!"

"Where's my boy?!" He yells, panicked. 

"Oh, he's fine. Great. Fast asleep in his room and unharmed." The woman said.

"Then what in the fuck are you on about?!" He screams.

"He's fine, even after he stopped breathing!" She joyfully cheers. "I'm not sure what ability it is-maybe its healing? But he's alive and well!"

"You're mad-!" He howls, anger staining his handsome face. "Just give me my son!" He begs.

"You don't believe me," she points at him, accusingly. "I would-I would never lie about that! What would it take for you to believe-should I just show you? Baby-."

The woman turns to her eldest child, a smile on her pretty face. "Could you bring me your brother?" She asked. "And a knife too-?"

He has always been a calm man: dopey to his coworkers, kind to his mother and father, and a bright light to his friends. Yet, when he hears these words coming from the woman, he rushes over to her, slamming her on the ground in rage. He squeezes her neck, hard, harder, even as she bangs her hands on his strong wrist. 

"How dare you-?" He clutches her frail neck harder. She sobs, salvia running down her chin. She's banging on his wrist harder, but he won't budge. "How dare you hurt my son, h-how dare you-?"

There's a sharp prick on his back. He looks behind him, at the child with big brown eyes holding a large knife, tears filling his eyes as he charges forward, trying to protect his mother. The older man, out of anger, grabs the knife and shoves the boy away—so hard that the small child falls hard on the ground. 

The man takes in a breath, letting go of the woman's neck. The woman looks up, coughing, her big blue eyes filled with tears. They look like a broken ocean bay, ready to burst down her chin like waterfalls. 

"You're insane!" He screams. "I should have never fell for any temptations." He breathes, holding back a sob, staggering back with a gasp leaving his lungs. "Maybe this is my karma as an unfaithful man, but I-to hurt my son! My wife was right. I should never have let you see him!"

"Darling?" She cries, reaching for the man who will never return her affection. "What are you saying?"

"I am taking my son, and he will never be back," He turns, glaring at the other child, "he's not a freak like you two."

"What-? Darling no-come back!" But the man grits his teeth, shutting his eyes close, and rushes out the door to find his son. "Wait-please no-I need you! We need you! We need-!" She cries. 

He shuts the bedroom door; the woman shrieks; the white sheets hiding her bed in the far corner shake from the impact.