Member-only story
Drain
Spooky-Story Prompt Response #2
They agreed to go with the therapist who did in-person sessions. Steven said he would only do it if there was someone else in the room.
Marla’s SUV pulled in next to her son’s dilapidated Subaru. She sighed. The kid was still living at home, eating the groceries she and James paid for, unable to find work, or lying about trying to find work. She couldn’t tell which.
Marla hit the garage clicker and went into the kitchen. “Steven, sweetie, we’re home. I got you those Swiss cake rolls you like.”
No response. She heard footsteps upstairs, then the door to the guest bedroom closing. James came in behind her with the first armful of groceries as Marla climbed the stairs, past the family photographs of the three of them lining the stairwell.
The bathroom light was on. She leaned her head around the corner.
“Steven, are you in the tub? Look, I’m sorry about this morning, okay? I didn’t mean what I said. We just want you to move on, that’s all.”
No answer. She could see the crown of her son’s head, greying in patches at the sides, resting against the porcelain. The shower curtain hid the rest of him. She stared a moment, catching a smell she couldn’t place: sharp and coppery.
