A Mother's Final Portrait

Yvonne noticed the disgust my mother had for me, and a small smile curled her lips. She raised her head and asked in feigned innocence, "What would you do if I was kidnapped, Mom?"My mother put down what she was holding and quickly approached Yvonne. Then, she enunciated solemnly, "I will not let that happen to you. If it does, I will make a portrait of the kidnapper the first chance I get and save you, trust me."Yvonne hugged Mom's arm and giggled cutely. "You're the best, Mom. Still, Jessica is also your daughter. We can forgive her for lying this time, can't we?"She looked so genuine. That look on her face took me back to three years ago. I had an important piano competition coming up, and I desperately wished for my mother to come. I wanted to show that I was good at something. I wanted to show that I could make her proud, too.I just wanted her to know I was no omen. I organized and reorganized my words before I made the call, and as carefully as a scared kitten afraid of

I asked her the same question a long time ago. I was in Grade Nine, and studies were hard. My mother fell ill, and she needed thousands for her treatment. To lessen her burden, I traveled to a lot of cities and joined many competitions to win any cash prizes possible.Then, I did nothing but go to school and the hospital to care for her. I lost so much weight back then. I nearly ran myself to the bone out of sheer exhaustion. My mother seemed to be moved, and she smiled at me for the first time in my life.When we ran into our neighbors, she would praise me and call me a good girl. I would follow her around, carefully tugging on her sleeve. Still, I always had a smile on. It was a timid but blissful smile.I thought I could touch my mother for the first time in my life. I thought my efforts could get her to love me, to be gentle to me. Everything seemed to be getting better, but then the afternoon came. Yvonne was holding her opened piggy bank.She came up to me, crying like a hurt

When my mother and Yvonne came rushing to the station, I was already lying in the coffin. My mother pleaded and pleaded with her colleague. In the end, they relented and opened the lid. When she saw my rotting corpse, her eyes went red.Then, she said tremulously, "Where's the report? Give me the report!""My condolences, Melanie." The forensic doctor handed a report to my mother. She took it and went through the report. It showed who the victim's next of kin was.It was her. Melanie Larson.My mother hurled the report away like it was some scalding stone. I was curious. My mother would only look so distraught when Yvonne was hurt. It was surprising she'd do that for me.My mother looked at her comrades and muttered, "No, it can't be. It can't be Jessica. This must be a mistake. It must be. Jessica's a prankster. She's just pulling this to ruin her sister's coming-of-age celebration. That must be it!"She tried to convince herself, "Give me a moment. I'll make a portrait. I'll pr

The video ended, and chaos ensued in the autopsy room. Everyone was cursing the killer's cruelty. My mother remained on the ground, unmoving. It was as if she was petrified by some sort of higher power.I hung my head low, smiling bitterly. Ah, so that was it. No wonder the kidnapper never wanted money. No wonder he only wanted my mother to show up. This was nothing but revenge.I didn't know what to feel. Sadness, maybe. There was also relief, though. I was heartbroken about how little my mother cared about me. I was also glad she didn't come.Although my mother never loved me, she was a pro when it came to her job. There must be a reason why she refused to give the man's brother the portrait he asked for.I did resent her, but I would never want her to die. She was my mother, after all. I always held out hope that perhaps she would finally love me, even if the love she had for me was minuscule.That hope was dashed for good. After all, the dead had no use for love.…My mother

This again. This was one of the tactics Yvonne loved to use on me. She'd 'accidentally' bring up the fact that I could live well even without them to my mother. She'd tell her how I was nice to everyone but them, that I was always distant when it came to them.That was how she deepened the conflict between my mother and me. That was how she made my mother hate me more. However, that tactic of hers finally failed. My mother swiveled around and stared into her soul with a gaze so chilly, it could freeze the whole house."Mom…" The moment she said that, my mother gave her one tight slap. That stunned her. My mother was holding my therapy records. It had the contents of my conversation with my therapist.'When did you start cutting yourself?''Grade Nine.''And how did these thoughts manifest themselves?''My sister framed me, and my mother didn't believe me. I didn't steal her money. She lied. She said I should've died like my brother did. She said I'm an omen. She said I'm someone