Obviously you just don't.

You have an oddly normal day after defiling yourself the laundry room floor. You browse the web and play games after you complete your chores, all thoughts of your morning depravity pushed away. The only thing that marks a deviation from your usual idle summer routine is that you don't rush to greet your mother when she gets home. You hear her car pull in and the front door open and close.

"Quinton? I'm home." You hear her shout through closed door but don't respond. She doesn't come upstairs to find you though she must notice you're ignoring her arrival. You wonder absentmindedly if you feel abandoned because of that. Eventually she calls you down to dinner and you go. You need to eat after all. Your mother tries to tell you about her day, but your unresponsiveness makes her feel you'd rather eat in silence. So she looks down at her plate with a sad expression as you wolf down your meal. You stand and take your dishes to the sink and exit as quickly as you can. As you move up the stairs, you hear a sigh from the kitchen.

This goes on for almost two weeks. You studiously avoid all real communication with anyone, including your mother and friends. Wasting away your summer on autopilot, you wake, shower, eat, distract yourself with mindless entertainment, and sleep. A kind of passive despair envelopes you as you continue to peek on your mother every chance you get, reigniting your childhood habit with gusto. You can't get the sound of her moaning Chris's name out of your head. She hasn't repeated it to your knowledge, though you can't watch her all the time. The image of him fucking her from behind that invaded your dreams has also made its way into your sexual fantasies. You find yourself drawn back to it every time you masturbate, which in your bored anhedonia is more and more often to less and less satisfaction, falling deeper and deeper into depravity as your fantasies struggle to keep up with your demands.

Paranoia seeps into your depression as the days roll by. You refuse to bring up the issue with your mother for obvious reasons and you've become distant so all you have to go on are your own pessimistic imaginings. Everytime she goes to the gym you wonder if she's really meeting him in secret. If when her phone beeps at dinner she's receiving filthy messages from him, perhaps complete with pics of his huge dick. You did know it was huge, exposing you to its revolting sight for various humiliating reasons had been a favorite tactic of his before you turned him in. When she comes home late, you fear she's been out with him, fucking like an animal in some dirty bathroom. You notice her "meditating" more, reminding yourself each time you see it that he's the one who convinced her to take up that practice. You imagine all the depraved, sinful things he might be doing to your mother every night as you fall asleep after jerking your own pitiful cock.

Finally, on a day much like the others, you're cleaning the living room and returning a book you found to the shelf where you know it belongs in your mother's home office. She has court today and you have the house to yourself. Her computer is on and unlocked, which is odd for her. She's usually more strict. You don't think much of it, but you head over out of the same perverse curiosity that keeps drawing you to her bedroom door as she dresses. Something soon catches your eye. Emails in one of her personal inboxes from none other than [email protected].

She said she'd stop emailing him, stop contacting him entirely. You think, anger building. What the fuck is wrong with her?! How could she? You scroll through the inbox of your mother's personal emails and find a few emails between her and Chris. You use the search function to single them out. You see there are five messages from Chris already read, each with replies, and a sixth that looks like it arrived about an hour ago. You look at the clock. Your mother was likely in court when it arrived and will likely be in court for a while still, she wouldn't have had a chance to see it. You decide to read them in chronological order, beginning with the email you noticed her receive in the car two weeks ago.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Meditation & Sleep Tracks

Hello Ms. Palmer,
These are some of my favorite quick meditation tracks. They're a public domain base track that I've edited for my own use and for my program. I know it sounds like nonsense and sometimes the people advertising it overpromise a little, but the real benefits of even a light regimen of regular mindfulness along with an all around healthy lifestyle are clearly documented. I think you felt said benefits first hand today. Track 1 is what we used today after your routine, track 1-10 are good for meditation any time and are around 15 minutes each. They can be listened to anytime, in any combination, for a bit of relaxing stress relief whenever you need it. Tracks 11-15 are a seperate playlist, one of my favorites also. Play these together starting with 11 for the best sleep of your life. I usually guarantee or your money back, but... just try them if you need help sleeping. It's not good to make sleeping pills a habit.

As I get the feeling this was our only appointment, I hope I've convinced you I've changed at least a little bit. Again, I understand you needed to know your son is safe and that I hold no grudge. I can only say one more time, I don't. You've seen my little space, I have a real program and a real degree and I'm trying to start a real business for myself. I don't wanna be chained to the past anymore than you or your son. If you decide you want a free fitness consultant for life, don't hesitate to call. I still feel obligated to offer that much for the pain I caused. Otherwise, goodbye and good luck.

-Chris

Attachments
15 Audio Files

When did he become such a smooth motherfucker? You wince a little at the unintentional pun. The Chris you remember was crass and foul mouthed. Now he comes off as polite, almost sane even. What's his game? You think as you read your mother's reply.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: re Meditation & Sleep Tracks

Thanks, I have to admit I felt a great deal of relief after listening to the first track so... if the rest of them produce similar results consider me a converted skeptic I suppose. And yes, I hope this is the last time we'll be seeing each other for reasons clear to both of us. Thank you for your time and I do wish you good luck in your endeavor but I'll have to ask you not to contact me or my son again or there will be hell to pay. I appreciate you want to move on and it looks like you're making a good start. Let us do the same.

-Angela Palmer

Why wasn't that the end of it? He obviously didn't reply immediately to this message. What are these other emails then? Why didn't she mention them to me? Is he harassing her?