Novel & Cerita My Evil Mother Atwood

He sat there in all his black glory, staring at me like I was some alien. "Are you on crack?!!" He finally exploded. I jerked up and he grabbed my hand and twirled me around, I was now facing him. His eyes had that devil glint in them. We were staring at each other pointedly without saying a word and I was getting fed up with the whole situation. Was it because I had mentioned his mom? I knew that everyone was bad in this world but there was a limit to evil....what if his mother was the reason he was evil? Or maybe his mother was a good woman who was killed at...

"You never wanted a daughter. You wanted a puppet who would obey your every command, get perfect grades, and make you look good in front of everyone. "Elsa didn't die today. You destroyed her long before this, when you tried to turn her into your idea of perfection." … The livestream exploded with comments. "Oh gosh, this mother is terrifying. How could she control her own daughter like that?" "Poor kid. Thank heavens I never bought into that brainwashing nonsense. If I'd done this to my child, I'd never forgive myself." "Her daughter died, and she didn't even notice. What kind of mother is that?"

Mother was right about being smart, about being patient. Eva thought she had won. She thought those four perfect children would protect her forever. But she'd forgotten one thing a patient predator was the most dangerous kind. And I could be very, very patient. When I finally spoke again, my voice was calm, controlled, and filled with deadly purpose. "Tell me, Mother. How do we destroy Eva without leaving a single fingerprint?" Mother's answering smile was everything I needed to see. Together, we would take everything from Eva, her children's love, Max's protection, her entire world.

Her blood coursed through my veins, making me wonder why she had despised me since I was a child. 'Such a wonderful mother, isn't she? 'Take note of the sarcasm.' Meghan Rhodes's eyes narrowed as she stared at me, making me scowl. 'Is she possessed or something? If so, I believe she is possessed by evil spirits daily.' "I've warned you not to come into this house ever again!" my mother clapped, jolting me out of my reverie. "Just the sight of you makes me sick! You're a monster!" she stressed out, and to my utter surprise, she hopped over the couch and jumped at me.

Well, perhaps, not until now. Unceremoniously, I opened the door, only to find my mother spread out in her chair, her skirt lifted up and the body of a woman who seemed oddly familiar, even though I could not see her face, was giving my mother her pleasure by eating her pussy. The whole thing was on display. I noticed fresh blood seeping down my mother’s thighs, and even though I knew that she had weird fetishes, I never assumed she would let somebody feed on her. Dark hair of the woman between her legs was cascading all over her muscular, brownish gold skin, her thong the only thing in place, her skin skinning from sweat. My mother, in the ecstasy of it all, at first did not notice me at al

Last time, I had worked forty-eight hours straight, redesigning a line and securing a bridge loan from the Grant family to keep my father out of bankruptcy. This time, I was going to let the ship hit the iceberg. I wanted to see if he really didn't need me as much as he claimed. “You dare smile? You evil, ungrateful child!” my mother shouted, taking a step toward me. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated loathing. “I don't know what possessed me to give birth to something as cold-blooded as you.” “You gave birth to an evil child, Mother. Which makes you the source,” I replied. My voice was a calm, steady blade. “If I’m a monster, I learned from the best.”

She pointed directly at my body and said sharply, "The deceased has multiple injuries consistent with abuse. Some are severe enough to qualify as bodily harm. You call that education?" "That was a necessary punishment!" my mom said, interrupting her immediately. Determined to prove everything was my fault, she suddenly made a demand, saying, "I can prove it to you! The software I designed will never make a mistake. If you don't believe me, I'll show you right now!" Her hands trembled as she pressed the power button. "I design 200 tasks every day. I'll prove it to you. Erwin died because he was too lazy. He must have been pretending to be dead to avoid work and accidentally killed himself!"

After I returned home from traveling abroad, I found that our housekeeper had sued my husband and me. In court, she cradled her protruding belly and said with heart-wrenching anguish, "Gary and his wife are absolute scum! Under the guise of hiring a housekeeper, they lured me into their home, tied me to a bed, and abused me. "The child I'm carrying is Gary's!" Her mother, meanwhile, was sobbing uncontrollably. "Those two monsters have ruined my daughter's life. They deserve the death penalty!" No sooner had she spoken than a chorus of curses against my husband and me erupted from the gallery. "That scum is utterly brazen. He didn't even show up for the hearing! He must be punished sever

Matthew shook his head without saying a word, making Lucy even more curious. What kind of woman was Matthew’s mother to make him look so distressed? Could she be like the evil stepmother in fairy tales? Laughing at her own imagination, Lucy shook her head to get rid of such thoughts. If Matthew had turned out like this, how bad could his mother be? There was no way she would be as bad as she imagined. However, looking at Matthew’s expression, Lucy could not shake off the feeling that his mother might be even scarier than an evil stepmother. After mentally preparing herself, Lucy felt a little better.

He laughs bitterly. “You want to talk about monstrousness? I took a hair comb she gave me out into the woods after we got home,” I say. “I buried it in the most beautiful place I could find and said all the right blessings. A woman who abused both my sisters, contributed to the murder of hundreds, if not thousands. That’s who I was missing.” “She was your mother. She—loved you.” “She did.” The words burn like alcohol, painful and sweet. I haven’t said them in a long time. “And you’re angry that you can’t grieve your parents properly. So, does wanting, feeling the ‘wrong’ thing make us evil?”