When Your Mother Doesn't Novels & Stories

—crossed his features, showing a rare glimpse of emotion: "Even you think that way?" The words were soft, almost wounded. Through my tears, I asked the question that had haunted me for years: "I just want to know what you said." I stepped closer to him, close enough to see the flecks of gray in his eyes. "What words could be so powerful that they drive people to die rather than live with them?" I remembered Mom's final moments—how she looked at me with the same terror as Ethan, then turned and ran. How her legs pumped frantically as she raced toward the silver pit.

Grandpa said Daddy used to be good to Mommy, and gentle with her. But after he became the Don, everything changed. Does being the Don turn you bad? But Grandpa didn’t turn bad, so I didn’t understand. “Grandpa, why don’t you go back and be the Don again? I hate them. They got Mommy killed. I want to...” I tipped my face up, not knowing how to say it. I only knew I was angry, but I couldn’t get it out. Grandpa said, “Revenge. The word you’re looking for is revenge.”

Don shook his head, closing the door. “I am sorry about her. She’s…” I shrugged, not even sure how to describe my mother. “A psycho bitch helicopter parent who doesn’t realize the umbilical cord is long ago cut?” Don arched his brow, turning to me. “Um… yeah, something like that. I take it you’ve seen Mother’s type before?” I nodded awkwardly.

She slowly sat on the bed starring at the picture. "Mum..., dad..., I'm home but I can't find any of you. I feel so lonely, you know? Dad..? Why did you leave mum and me like this? She has even refused to see me or talk to me. What should I do dad...? The whole house feels so empty without you guys around. I miss you so much." she mumbled to the picture in her hand amidst tears as she hugged onto it. "Why Dad..., why did you have to leave us like this?" she exclaimed(sobbing bitterly)as she slowly sat on the floor.

first time panicking over someone's health. Her thumb gently glided over her mother's clear skin. "Mum.... mum.... this is the first time I have a mother.... I didn't expect this feeling to be so... soo good. So mom, don't get sick. It breaks my heart to see you like this. We can earn a ton of money it later but if you leave me what will I do? How can I be without your warmth?" she whispered, wiping her tears roughly.

It was all completely empty. “What about your mother?” Chris asked, his voice pulling me from my thoughts and I had only one answer. Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t know. I never had a mother.” “What? No, that’s not right,” Chris said, his tone filled with concern. “Everyone has a mother. You probably just never got to meet yours due to some cruel unforeseen circumstances.” “Cruel unforeseen circumstances,” I echoed, the phrase sticking in my throat like gum.

"You are a sick, twisted monster." My mother glared at me. The doctor frowned and recommended genetic testing, suspecting a rare disease. My mother only sneered. "Rare disease? She's mentally warped. She fakes being sick to get attention!" The noon sun blazed overhead. I huddled under the shade canopy, trembling violently, clutching my collar shut. Then my mother shoved the canopy aside and overturned it. She tore off my long coat and pushed me down onto the scorching sand. The intense UV rays seared through my skin in an instant. Huge blisters swelled up along my arms, then burst one after another. My mother stood there, revulsion all over her face. "Iris, have you no shame left at all, fak

********************** Some months later ********************** I have been avoiding Mazi for so long to no avail, I really regretted what happened between us in the past however I'm really pressured right now. My petty business is not enough to pay my rent, cloth, or feed Sarah and me, not to talk of Sarah's school fees. The hours I spent under the sun has made my skin darker and wrinkled, I don't wear makeup anymore and it used to be one of my favorite things in the world. Sarah would soon be eight years but she has matured beyond her age because of the circumstances revolving around us, I have failed her as a mother. "Mum, I'm hungry." Sarah's soft voice broke my reverie.

I call my mother to tell her the news but she doesn't pick up, I try several times but nothing Christ: who are you calling? Me: my mother, she doesn't pick up Christ: you know very well that she is busy, try to call your father Me: yes, you're right I'm calling my father, the phone didn't even ring and he picks up Me: hello.. He doesn't let me talk Dad: congratulations my child, I'm proud of you. I love you very much, never forget it. Tell your mother that I love her too, take care of yourself.

I answered with a straight face, receiving a strong slap from her. “OW!” I hollered, “Dane, you sadist —” “You deserve it.” My lips curled down into a scowl. "On what grounds?" "For leaving without telling me a thing!" She screamed. "You didn't even have the audacity nor the generosity to bring me back a souvenir." ============ Nothing good would come out from fighting --- was what my Mother said before she disappeared from our lives. Dane and I were eating something she made from the scraps on my pantry. It was made in a rush, but was good enough to eat.