Blitzo Mom Death Novels & Stories

Mom always says that depression is nothing more than an illness born of idleness. People who are truly busy studying don't have time to be depressed. So, during my senior year of high school, I lie awake through countless nights, my hair falling out in clumps as I tremble over endless mock papers. Mom only slides another mock exam booklet in front of me. "Finish this booklet, and you won't have time to wallow in self-pity." At family gatherings, my relatives notice that I keep my head down and barely speak. They ask Mom, "Why has she gotten so quiet?" Mom's face darkens at once. "It's because she's guilty about something, duh. Go on. Tell everyone what you've done wrong this time." Late

The smear she couldn't get out of the floor. That wasn't strawberry jam. Mama's eyes moved down to my wrist. The black bracelet was still there. The light was dead. There was no heartbeat, so it wasn't working anymore. Mama stared at the dead red light. A sound came out of her throat that wasn't crying and wasn't a scream. It was the sound of something breaking inside her. Her lips were shaking as she traced her fingers along my face, tears welling up in her eyes. "Someone call an ambulance. Call somebody. Call—"

“I was there when your mom and Christian used some special grenades he’d come up with to blow Daunator into a billion pieces.” Swallowing hard, Jo realized Eliza’s statement confirmed that the Guardian had also been there when her mom had fallen off of the mountain and died--the first time. She wished she could pause to talk about that hunt for a moment, and about how Jamie had saved her mom. She’d like to hear it from someone else’s perspective, even if she’d spent her whole life growing up listening to her Uncle Elliott retell the story and had also heard versions from Cassidy, Brandon, her dad, and Jamie.

I was in pain reminiscing dad but mom had better plan to burn me down into ashes. “Your dad’s dead Zack. He's fucking dead and is not going to come back anymore” suddenly, she blasted out like a grenade saying that and my heart stopped for a moment. “He’s dead for god’s sake and all we have is ourselves. Either we have to deal it between ourselves or we’ll have to continue going on blaming each other for whatever that’s happening in our lives. So don’t you dare take the name of your dad in these situations ever again” mom broke apart like hell and I was numb.

"Yes, I am totally fine with that. By the way, isn't your name Glenda, Madam?" Glenda nodded. "Yes, you're right. Tell me something about your life first. It's better if I know a little bit about you!" "No problem, I don't have any other family besides my father who refrain from talking when my mom died a long time ago due to a car accident," Tricia exhaled and fought back her tears before speaking again. "Actually, I was the one he was blaming for my mom's unfortunate passing... I was a kid back then, recklessly crossing the street while my mom was busy buying me an ice cream, and then a van passed by, and she pushed me away before it hit me, and she was the one who died.

There I found my mom, showering in her own blood. And… I could no longer hear her heartbeat. Her eyes were wide open as if she had seen something that terrified her before she died. Randall’s words along with the council and mom’s warnings resounded in my ears as I turned to Blade and screamed, “What the hell have you done to my mom?!”

I shortly replied while staring deeply at his raging orbs. "Do you know the blast that happened at the theater in Manhattan?" F*ck! "That's where my mom died!" Sh!t! I cursed myself. Even if he wouldn't continue his story, I kind of understood what he meant. "She was with my dad that night, celebrating her birthday by seeing her favorite musical when that explosion happened!" I choked on the brandy I was drinking upon hearing his short story. I couldn't look him in the eye. "I promised myself, whoever is the mastermind for that blast, will pay!" He almost broke the glass he was wiping with his rage.

“Let’s not do this here.” I stared at them both, numb. My hands trembled on the blanket. I could still feel Nina’s bracelet in my fingers — the memory of it — the way it had slipped from my hand. “I didn’t mean to,” I whispered. “I swear, I didn’t—there was something on the road—I tried to—” “She’s dead!” Mom’s voice cracked, echoing through the sterile room. “Do you hear yourself? Excuses won’t bring her back.” Tears blurred my vision. The beeping on the monitor spiked as my chest tightened. “Please,” I said weakly, “please don’t say that.”

“Mother?” She didn’t respond immediately. He noticed the remote clenched tightly in her hand. “What happened?” She turned to him slowly. “Alfredo Morello is dead.” Bryce stopped moving. The words didn’t register at first. “What?” “Diabetes complications,” she said, voice thin. “It happened this morning.” Bryce stared at her. Dead? For a moment, an old memory flashed—Dominic and Alfredo at a corporate dinner years ago. The father’s hand firm on his son’s shoulder. Approval without words.

The claustrophobic feeling rushed in again. My mom claimed the lights went off and the brakes became faulty. My dad couldn't control the brakes anymore. They were coming back from my uncle's funeral with my younger brother who was seated at the backseat of the car. I didn't attend because I wasn't feeling too well and before they knew it, the car went off the hills! My brother and father died instantly! My mom broke her spinal cord and damaged her ribcage. The doctors knew she wouldn't make it but they kept assuring me she would. After saying her last words to me, she gave up the ghost!