Novel & Cerita Why I Hate My Mother Book

She nodded in return making my heart pound harder. Air punched from my lungs as i repeated my words, "You know my mother ?" She nodded again. "Why did she leave me ?" I asked. She stared back at me, a strange look clouding her eyes before she dropped the bomb on me, "She hates you." She said, she clenched his jaw, disgust evident in her tone, "And if she saw what you just did she would've hated you even more." I blinked at her, my eyebrows pulled together, "Why ?"

Michelle My mother and my sister often make me really mad, and Brian is no different. They accused me of getting fired without even giving me a chance to share my side of the story, which, honestly, I should be used to by now. My mother has never taken my side on anything; I was always the problem simply because I look like my father. I barely remember him, since he left us a long time ago when I was just four years old. His leaving has left a deep mark on my life. My mother’s hatred towards me seems rooted in her resentment towards my father for abandoning us and everything else associated with him.

I hate her. Hate my cursed luck for having such a sociopathic, narcissistic, selfish and manipulative human as my mother.

She raised her hand to slap me, and I closed my eyes. His mother hates me!! The one person that I'd give anything for to just like me hates me! And I don't know why!

“Why are you still sad?” I asked him. “I am not sad.” “Your eyes tell a different story, Andro. You look sad.” I told him. “I hate confronting my mother. It reminds me that I should hate her but I don’t and that makes me feel bad for my father.” He told me. “You haven’t done anything wrong by not hating her Andro. You are a good person. It’s not your fault that you don’t have a single hate bone in your body.” I told him.

I asked, expecting her to feel insecure, expecting her to tell me she wanted to leave, expecting to see her tremble but she remained silent still watching me, but then asked, “Why did you do it?” I froze. “Why did you paralyze your father and take over his title?” she pressed, her eyes steady. “Tell me the truth.” The truth. I wasn’t ready for that. But for some reason, I couldn’t lie to her either. “I hated them,” I said finally, my voice rough. “All of them, my father, my mother, my sister. My mother… She was lucky to lock herself away from the world. My sister, gone. Sold. And my father…” I swallowed hard. “He’s the one I hated most. That’s why I did it.”

my mother said and I shuddered slightly at the raw hatred evident in her voice. At that moment, I realized the amount of hate my mother had for him. She didn't stay because she loved him, she stayed because she pitied him and because she wanted me to have a complete family. It began to make sense to me that my mother didn't hate me because of him, she hated me because she wanted me to be safe from him. I began to hate myself for being so selfish, I hated myself for regretting coming to pick her up that night. Perhaps this was all meant to happen. Perhaps I was meant to come here to hasten up his death.

I remember the screams between my mother and me "I hate you," I had screamed, the words echoing in the quiet kitchen. "I hate you, Mom. I wish I was never born." The silence that followed was deafening, suffocating. Her face crumpled, her eyes mirroring the devastation I felt. I didn't care. The anger, the betrayal, consumed me. I had told myself right there that I would leave the house and everything that had to do with my mother.

But unlike him, my shock curdled instantly into something far more potent, far more dangerous. Extreme hatred. Not for Viktor, not even for Tristan, not directly. It was a cold, bitter wave that crashed over me, directed squarely at my mother. The woman who had succumbed to loneliness, who had withered and died in the opulent cage Viktor had built around her. My stomach churned with a disgust so profound it threatened to spill over.

Deep ones, "She used to go there to see me sometimes, only to check if I was still alive. Sometimes she would take me home to her family, with the rest of my happy cousins like Brody and I would see how their moms treated them, like they loved them. So it was only clearer that my mom hated me." "But, why?" I ask, without being able to understand. A mother doesn't just hate her son, that goes against nature. "Because I've always been a smartass. Too rough, too rude, too arrogant. Too smart. I know things I shouldn’t know… I don’t know how, I just do. That angered her, when I was right. She sent me the fuck away so I could stop saying all the things I knew," he says and that makes even less se