This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/TheBigKraken21 on 2026-05-16 20:52:55+00:00.

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I know what I did was wrong, but I couldn’t bring myself to lose him and live without him.

I still remember his laugh. His smile. The way he’d ask questions no parent ever really knows how to answer without crossing some parent-child boundary. I remember his 11th birthday – the first birthday when he didn’t want a party or any friends over. He wanted me to stay inside with him, watching cartoons and playing games all day. It was quiet. Peaceful. I never even thought about it ending so fast.

And then the accident… the deafening ambulance, the flashing lights painting everything red and blue. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night.

I stayed with him in the hospital for his last few days. Every day and night. I barely slept. The days felt endless, and I felt like I was just waiting for something that was bound to happen.

All I could think about during that time was what I could have done differently.

Why wasn’t I with him? Why did I let him go to school on his own that morning? Why didn’t I just drive him myself?

On his “final” day, I told myself I was ready to say my goodbyes. But that was an obvious lie. I just stood in the doorframe of the hospital room, my eyes filled with tears, trying to think of something – anything, damn it – a father is supposed to say in a moment like that. But my mind was blank.

All I could think about was what my life would look like without him.

And it wasn’t life. It was me, now an empty shell, waking up, going to work, doing overtime, coming home tired, and sleeping. No reason to smile. No smile waiting for me when I get home.

A “life” I couldn’t accept. So, I didn’t – I changed it by accident. An accident that was even worse than the initial one that took my son away from me.

I had gotten used to the sounds of the hospital room. The steady rhythm of the monitor, the occasional soft hiss of air being pushed through tubes. It was all familiar and, for some reason, gave me hope.

That night, he looked smaller in that bed than before. I sat beside him, holding his hand as I always did, and smiled down at him – although he was unresponsive, it made me a bit happier.

Before going inside, the doctors told me it wouldn’t be long. I know they tried everything they could, and I don’t blame them for not being able to save him.

I had brought the teddy with me tonight. I gave it to him when he was 5, and he had been obsessed with it ever since. Without him in the house, it had been sitting on the bed for hours, probably missing its owner.

“Hey buddy…”

My voice came out weaker than I expected. I realized that the only moments I ever talk these days are when I’m with him in the hospital.

I glanced at him, hoping for a reaction. Maybe a twitch or something. But nothing happened.

“You remember this?” I asked gently, holding the plush closer to him, hoping he’d reach out and hug it. “You used to take it everywhere with you. Threw tantrums when I told you to leave it at home.”

I let out a small laugh, remembering all the memories that flooded my mind.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered after a few seconds of silence.

“I should’ve been there more, I know that. Spent more time with you. But I thought I had time. I thought--” I covered my eyes, trying to keep him from seeing his father cry. It didn’t make sense, as he wasn’t awake.

“I can fix it… somehow,” my grip tightened around the plush. “I just--”

My voice broke. “I just needed you to stay.”

“Please, don’t leave me here alone.”

The monitors continued their steady rhythm, now muffled by the occasional sniffle.

I’m not sure how long I stayed like that. To me it felt like hours, but when I looked at the clock only a few minutes had passed.

But something changed.

It wasn’t anything physical in the room, but something was wrong. He looked calmer.

I remember feeling the teddy grow heavier in my hands. I tried telling myself it was nothing, but then I heard him.

“Dad?”

He was quiet. I thought it was my mind playing evil tricks on me.

Still, I looked up, my eyes bulging with anticipation. He hadn’t moved.

“Dad?” He said, a bit louder now. This time, I heard it clearly.

I looked down at my hands. At the plush.

Part of me instantly understood that something wasn’t right. But I neglected it. The only thing I cared about was that I had heard his voice again.

And I wasn’t going to lose it a second time.

The drive home felt quieter than I expected.

I kept one hand on the steering wheel, and my other gripping the teddy a little too tight.

Was I going crazy? Is this the result of sleep deprivation?

“Are we going home?” He said, his voice soft like always.

No, I’m not crazy. He’s been talking, asking. It’s him, there’s no doubt about it. For some reason, I was given a second chance to be with him. Maybe this isn’t forever. I just want to be with him a bit longer.

“Yeah… yeah, we are. You’re all better now.”

“…okay.”

A few minutes passed before he spoke again.

“Are you going to work tomorrow?”

My grip tightened around the steering wheel, embarrassed. “No. No, I’m staying home. With you. We can--”

“Good.” He cut me off. It sounded a bit strange – something that should’ve caught my attention then, but I didn’t care. I smiled, knowing I could be with him.

I didn’t put him back on the bed. Instead, I placed the teddy on the kitchen chair, exactly where we used to sit.

“Do you feel okay?” I quietly asked.

“I think so.” He replied. I was too afraid to address the elephant in the room – the fact that he was talking through a teddy bear.

“Do you remember me?” Stupid question, he called you ‘dad’ back in the hospital, but I still wanted to know.

“Yeah.”

He paused for a moment. “You’re my dad.”

Relief washed over me as I let out a shaky breath, then smiled at him. “Yeah, son,” I said. “Yeah, I am. And I--”

“Why weren’t you there?”

My heart sank, and I could feel my face freeze in shock. “W-was where?”

“At school.”

“I… I was at work, I’m--”

“You’re always at work.” He said, but it didn’t sound angry. It sounded disappointed, which, in all honesty, is probably worse than him being angry.

The funeral was organized by his mother three days later. I didn’t go, telling them that it was “too much too soon” for me. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. I stayed home and spent time with my son.

“There’s a lot of people there,” I said at one point, not sure why I was bringing the funeral up.

“They’re all there for you.” The teddy sat in my lap, still unable to move and only speak.

“I don’t like them,” he said. “They talk about me like I’m gone.”

“But you’re not, buddy,” I followed up quickly, placing my hand on the back of the bear, hoping he would feel it and be comforted. “You’re right here with me.”

He stayed silent for a moment.

“Then why did you let them put me in the ground?”

I don’t remember what I answered. I may not have answered at all.

Things did not stay normal for long afterwards. He talked less during the day, usually only saying something during the night. Sometimes I’d wake up with the teddy already against my chest, although I didn’t remember holding it before falling asleep. I stopped questioning small things like that after the first week. I was happy I could spend more time with my son.

But then he started with his requests, which were innocent at first: “Stay a little longer. Don’t turn the lights off yet. Can we watch cartoons again?” Simple, childish things that I couldn’t refuse. But then he brought up work again.

“Do you have to go tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I answered quietly, quickly following up that it would only be for a few hours and I’d be home before he knew it. Still, silence followed.

“But you said you missed me, dad.”

Ouch. That stung.

“I do, but--”

“Then stay. Please?”

I called in sick the next morning, unable to refuse his requests.

The real weird requests started a Tuesday morning. My sister came by unexpectedly, delivering groceries to me. “You look awful,” she told me as she stepped inside.

“Thanks,” I laughed weakly, not adding anything more to the conversation.

Her eyes kept drifting toward his room at the end of the hall. “Are you sleeping in there? And don’t lie to me.”

“Sometimes. It feels good.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes filled with pity. “You know, I could get you in contact with a--”

“No, Ellie, I told you I don’t need a shrink. Please, let me grieve my own way.”

Before leaving, she stopped near the door. “You know this isn’t healthy, right?”

That question echoed in my head the rest of the day, and I think he also noticed.

“I don’t like her.”

I rubbed my eyes, “Aunt Ellie? Don’t you remember when we went to the aquarium and--”

“She wants to take me away. You won’t let her, right?”

I stared at the teddy in my lap, its stitched smile looking a bit wider in the dark. “Right?” it asked again.

“No, of course not. I won’t.”

The requests started to sound more like demands afterwards. “Don’t answer the phone. Lock the door.” And eventually, “Don’t go to work again.”

I laughed nervously, replying, “I have to eventually. People are already worried about me.”

“You were always there more than you were here. Are you repeating the same mistake?”

Again. That was like a knife under my ribs. “Come on, that’s not fair.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? Don’t you love me more?”

I stayed silent, mostly out of embarrassment – he was right. But whenever I stayed silent too long, he followed up with questions. “Why aren’t you looking at me? Why won’t you talk to me again? Are you sca...

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