Novel & Cerita Watching My Mommy Go Black

In grief, I growl their names again and again until the throat is going to dry and my voice is losing in the air. I’m crying. I’m crying desperately. And I’m yelling in sorrow. The world in front of me turns dark. I cannot see anything around. Anyone swift off the sun? “Shut the fuck up,” yells the thug as he drags me to my feet. He’s clutching my funeral robes, his eyes widening. “Talk, where is the black diamond?” The leader lets out a groan as he gets closer to my mom. "I have no idea what it is.” My mom lets out her faint rasp.

“Can you break up with her and choose Mommy instead? You see, Mommy has been lonely for quite some time now. I see her silently crying at night. I don’t want to see Mommy crying anymore.” I laughed nervously while watching Sebastian’s reaction. “S-sorry about that. You don’t have to take her words seriously. She’s just a child.” “I am not a child, Mommy.” “You are, love. Please go to your room and get your bag. Aunt Christy will be here in a minute. You will be playing with her.” Kelly pouted. "I don't want to go. I want to stay here with Uncle Holding. Mommy? Will you please tell Aunty I don't want to go?"

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t

my mother mutters, her voice filled with shock, and is now that it registers in my brain that she is still here. "I am so sorry. I supported them all this while and- "Forget it mom please. I can't do this right now" I wave her off, finding it difficult to breathe "But Elizabeth- "Mom please" I plead, losing control of myself, "I said forget- And before I can utter my last word, my world goes black

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

Safe. I buried my face into my arms. I hated her. Gods— I hated her so much. --- About an hour later, I finally stepped back out. Mother sat quietly at the small kitchen table smoking a cigarette. She looked calmer now. Which usually meant danger. Her eyes lifted toward me slowly. “You’re leaving Blackthorn.” I blinked. “What?” “You heard me.” I stared at her. Then laughed once in disbelief. “You’re joking.” “I’m serious.” “Mom—”

"Give her some space, both of you! Steven, how much longer?" I didn't hear what he said. The world around me started to spin. I was trembling, finding it hard to breathe. "Maeve? Oh, oh, no. No, no NO!" Mom's voice was the last thing I heard, and then it all went black. #

I had asked in my childish voice, "Mom, will you still recognize me if I turn into a cockroach?" She gently caressed my head and replied, "Of course. I gave birth to you, Denise. No matter what you end up as, I will always recognize you." 'Mom, my heart is right before you. Do you recognize me?' I thought. Evidently, she did not.

"Are you really going to watch your mother die?" The longer she talked, the steadier she became. Six years of marriage had taught her exactly where my weakness was. She was right. If my mother hadn't died on that operating table, I might have given in. However, she had thrown away the only leverage she had. I drove my foot into Diana's stomach. She slammed into the TV with a loud crash. "My mother's condition no longer matters to me. "All I want now is your life." I raised the knife and stepped toward her.

It looked like my mother’s. Our mother’s. And as the darkness curled around me, pulling me under, my last thought wasn’t fear. It wasn’t pain. It was a single, chilling realization— That smile looked so much better on my face. *** "It’s going on week three. If you can’t tell me why my daughter hasn’t woken up yet, I’ll make sure your hospital goes down in flames." That voice. Maverick. "Please, Mr. Black. As I’ve told you—"