Rockabye Baby

Thriller Stories | Nov 25, 2011 | 6 min read
16 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
Seven Pounds and nine ounces. That was the birth weight of Damien, my baby boy. September fourteenth 2010. That was the day he took his first breath of air in this world.

My husband Jeremy and I had been trying for a long time to get pregnant. It had always been my dream to be a mother, and Jeremy's dream to be a father. We were both raised by single parents, so we knew what it was like to not have the "American Dream" family. That was one of the reasons we wanted a child so badly. We wanted the opportunity to give that child what we never had.

When I gave birth to Damien, it was the most painful yet joyous moment in my life. More joyous than painful. The simple fact that me and Jeremy's dream was coming true took my mind off the pain. And when Damien was placed into my arms for the first time, it was as if I was holding an angel.

His eyes were as blue as the sea, and his hair was bright blonde like the morning sun. He was a spitting image of his father.

"And to think we created such a beautiful work of art. We did good honey. Really good," said Jeremy very softly.

I shared his sense of achievement.

The first couple weeks were hard. I was up almost every hour of every day. Feeding Damien, bathing Damien, changing his diapers, and all the other usual motherly jobs that you think you can handle until you actually have to do them.

Damien became less like a dream baby, and more like a monster.

I grew tired. My entire personality changed, and I just wanted to escape. Escape Damien. I knew then and there that I had made the wrong choice in having a baby. Did I honestly think I could care for it? Jeremy was constantly working, so it was as if I was a single parent. I had to do everything on my own.

One night, I confronted Jeremy about it. "I can't do this on my own Jeremy! I'm sick and tired of you getting to go to work and escape your duties as a parent, and leaving me in this hellhole to take care of Damien. He needs a father too you know. And I can't play both roles." I said this very seriously and with determination, and I was determined. Determined to get Jeremy to help me with Damien.

Jeremy didn't seem phased by it. He looked at me in a very nonchalant way and said, "Listen honey. I want to help you take care of Damien. I do. But one of us has to work. If I don't work, the bills won't get paid and we'll lose the house. Is that what you want to happen?"

I walked out of the room for fear of punching him in the face. I wanted to hit him so badly. I lost all my patience with Jeremy. I also lost all my patience with Damien. I know it's wrong, but I started to feel hatred towards both of them.

One night in November, there was a bad thunder storm. I loved storms. I loved hearing the rumble of the thunder, and I loved seeing the flash of the lightning. Damien was scared of storms, and that was clear.

I couldn't even hear the thunder because Damien's screams completely overpowered it. I walked upstairs to his nursery to calm him down. He was huddled up in the corner trembling. I held him in my arms, kissed him on his forehead, and laid him in his cradle.

He still seemed afraid, so I began to sing to him.

Rockabye baby on the tree top,

When the wind blows the cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,

And down will come baby cradle and all.

 

He continued to scream and cry even after I sang him the song. Then I had an epiphany. The song wasn't a song at all. The lyrics weren't lyrics. They were instructions. Could these instructions be the key to my freedom?

I began to plan it all out. Step one was the tree top. That was a problem because there weren't many trees in my area. I had to substitute something for the tree top. "The third floor balcony should do it!" I said to myself in an excited tone.

Step two was the wind. Being that it was already windy outside, this step was already taken care of.

Steps three and four weren't really steps at all, but rather, the outcome. And it was an outcome I couldn't wait to achieve.

Once, my plan was finished, I placed Damien on the floor and took his cradle upstairs. I opened the balcony door and fastened the cradle on top of the ledge. I got soaked because of the storm, but I didn't care because it was what had to be done.

I went downstairs, got Damien, and brought him to the balcony. He screamed and cried and screamed and cried, but the rush of excitement that fell over me completely blocked it all out. I placed him in his cradle atop the ledge and began to explain to him what was going on.

"Sweetheart," I said. "Mommy hates you. You ruined me and your father's life together, and it's time for you to go. Remember my sweet and beautiful boy. Mommy loves you."

I began to rock the cradle and then went back inside. A few seconds later I heard something hit the ground outside. I went outside to investigate. When I walked out to the front porch, there, on the lawn, was Damien. He was laying face down in a pool of his own blood.

All I could think to myself was, "what could of monster could have done this?" and, "Who killed my baby boy?"

I fell to my knees and wept. I lifted Damien from the blood stained grass, and held him in my arms. I rocked him and sang him a song.

Rockabye baby on the tree top,

When the wind blows the cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,

And down will come baby cradle and all.

 

The next morning when Jeremy got home, I brought him to the kitchen. I had made him a full breakfast complete with eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast. He seemed very happy with the feast I had prepared for him.

"Why are you so happy today?" he asked. "Let's just say I finally got the sleep I've been needing," I said.

After breakfast, Jeremy walked upstairs and I began washing the dishes. Then, I heard a loud scream. I ran upstairs as fast as I could. The screams were coming from the nursery.

As I entered the nursery, I saw Jeremy standing over Damien's body crying hysterically.  Upon closer inspection, I noticed that Jeremy wasn't crying at all. He was laughing. Did Jeremy kill Damien? Could this be?

"Jeremy what have you done?" I screamed. He laughed and said, "rockabye baby." "What?" I replied. "Rockabye baby," he said. Then I started laughing with him.

Who am I you may ask?

Sometimes I'm Amy, Sometimes I'm Jeremy, and every so often, I'm Damien.

 

Rockabye Baby…..

 

 

 

 

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Reviews

Nikki Jul 27, 2012

I didnt really get the ending :?

Morgana Dec 16, 2011

Nice take on a DID theme. I really liked the characterization.

Chanchal Nov 28, 2011

short and interesting story..:)

Triss Nov 28, 2011

nice.. :)

Amit Nov 28, 2011

interesting story ever. i like it alot.

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