A dry, hacking cough jolts me awake. Instinctively, I try to cover my mouth, but my hands and feet are bound to the chair.

“Hello,” I call out, but all that escapes me is a strained whisper. My throat feels like it has been massaged with 100-grit sandpaper.

I look around, craning my neck as much as the pain allows. I am surrounded by dancing flames that illuminate an intricately drawn pattern on the floor.

Where am I? I ask myself while trying to remember what I was doing last.

I was eating key lime pie with my mother and remember telling her that she had outdone herself this time.

“Thank you. That’s so nice of you to say. Did you know that key lime pie was your father’s favorite as well? Whenever I made it, he would sneak down in the middle of the night and eat some.”

A tear formed in her eye and fell down her cheek.

“I miss dad, too.”

My father died 6 months ago. He was on his way home from work and crashed into a tree. They said he fell asleep at the wheel.

I try to visit my mom regularly since the accident.

I hugged her, and we talked a little more before I left.

The last thing I remember was getting into my car.

Oh my god. Did I die? Am I in hell?

Creeeeek

The sound of a door opening behind me, and the footsteps that follow, interrupt my thoughts.

“Hello?”

Nobody answers.

“Please, I don’t have much money, but all of it is yours if you let me go. I just want to go home to my family.”

“So do I.”

That voice. A pang of recognition hits me, as well as the familiar scent of key lime juice.

“Mom?!”

She comes into view. Her eyes are red, and her cheeks are wet with tears.

“Mom, what’s going on? Why do you have that knife? Answer me, please.”

She stays silent and kisses me on my forehead.

“I’m sorry. It’s your father’s fault, not yours, but this is the only way for me to go back home. The only way for me to see my family. Please forgive me.”

“What are you talking about. I am your family. You are my mom, and I am your son.”

“Your mother died while giving birth to you.”

Before I can speak another word, she slices into my wrists; left, then right. Blood starts to seep from the fresh cuts and drip onto the floor, causing the patterns to light up.

A door appears out of nowhere and she walks towards it — shedding her earthly prison and revealing her true form.

I can’t help but smile when she opens the door and I hear a voice yell out in joy.

“MOMMY! You came back!”

They embrace each other for what feels like an eternity.

Before fully stepping through, my mom turns toward me and says, “I’m sorry.”