Breakfast is Ready

Breakfast is Ready

         This place is death. Jack enters the kitchen to the visual of his mother smiling and saying, "Breakfast is ready!"
         It's like she's laughing at his very existence. Like she knows his struggle, knows his pain, and still insists on smothering him with the same conventional bullshit that his whole life has been shrouded in. The metal feels cold in contrast to his sweating palms. Her patronizing smile will never haunt his dreams again. Twitch. Bang.
         Jack gazes on the body with and emotionless face. Even in death, his mothers condescending smile stares at him, and sends narcissistic thoughts pulsing through his mind. Bitch.
         Jack hears nothing. He sees his brown leather sofa, which tempts him with comfort, and a place to recollect on what he's just done. He sits down. Jack sees his mother sitting next to him. Jack sees his mother in the stairway. Jack sees his mother next to the television. Jack sees his mother everywhere. She repeats the last words she ever said to him over and over again. The same words she says every morning and the same words that symbolize Jacks poor, pitiful existence. "Breakfast is ready, breakfast is ready."
         Breakfast is ready every morning. Then it's "Time for school."
         Then it's "Do your homework."
         Then it's "Go to bed."
         And every day goes just like that. Even in killing his problem, Jack finds no peace. "Breakfast is ready." his mother says smiling at him from across the room.
         Jack once again feels the cold metal on his sweating palms. Twitch. Bang. This place is death.