The Life Mom Was Meant to Have

I was floating in the air when I saw Mom at 18. She wore a beautiful dress, her face bright with a carefree smile.

My heart ached. I'd never seen her smile like that before. The Mom I knew was always screaming and flying into rages.

Without thinking, I whispered, "Mom."

To my surprise, she stopped and looked around warily. "Who said that?"

She could hear me!

My heart leaped. I hesitated for a moment, then said softly, "Mom, I'm your son. I'm from the future."

A bitter smile crossed my face.

She'd never let me call her Mom. She called me a bastard and said I was the monster who had ruined her life.

I remembered trying to get close to her when I was little. I'd called her Mom as sweetly as I knew how.

She'd been perfectly calm one second. Then she snapped.

She slapped me across the mouth again and again, screaming, "Don't you dare call me Mom, you little bastard! You don't deserve to!"

She hit me until my lips split and bled. Even now, my speech was still a little slurred.

After that, I never dared call her Mom again.

I thought Mom at 18 would hate me, too. But instead, her eyes lit up.

"You're my son? Really? Who do I end up with? Do we have a happy family?" she asked softly.

There was so much hope in her eyes that my throat tightened. Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them.

How could I tell her?

That monster would force himself on Mom, all because of me. After that, she'd spend the rest of her life in hell. She'd never be happy.

I suddenly wished I hadn't told her I was her son. I didn't deserve to be her son.

When I stayed quiet for too long, Mom spoke again, her voice tentative. "Sweetheart, do I treat you badly in the future? I'm sorry. Let me apologize for what she did to you."

Seeing how guilty and worried she looked, my throat tightened. "No, Mom. You were always good to me."

Just then, a wave of weakness swept through me. I could feel myself starting to fade.

I tried to think, and then I remembered something important. Panic surged through me.

"Mom, there's something really important. Whatever you do, don't go to the party after the entrance exam. You'll..."

Before I could say anything more, everything went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the rundown apartment. The book was still hovering in midair.

One line read, "Alan Carter forces himself on Lizzie Blythe on her way home from the party after the entrance exam."

The words hadn't changed.

I burst into tears.

Why hadn't anything changed? I'd already warned Mom not to go to the party.

Suddenly, the room spun. That terrifying feeling that I was dying came over me again. I crumpled to the floor.

Maybe if I died here, Mom would finally be free.

My consciousness was fading when the woman next door called an ambulance. She stayed with me until it arrived, then looked down at me with pity and sighed.

"I knew you'd end up hurt again. It's always one tragedy after another with you and your mom."

They rushed me into the ER.

By the time I woke again, half the day had passed. I stared at the book floating in front of me, racking my brain for a way back into its world.

Then it hit me that blood might be the key.

I slipped into the bathroom, cut my wrist with a paring knife, and let the blood drip onto the book.

The next second, it pulled me back into its world.