Novel & Cerita Why Mommy Poisoned You Book

Only when Emerald stopped moving did she release her hand. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. It was a twisted sense of relief. Then, she muttered to herself, “Mom, don’t blame me. You ruined my life. You’re free now, and so am I.” Even though Emerald had pushed things so far, it was Amelia’s own weakness, selfishness, and foolishness that led to this tragedy.

My fingernails bit into my palms so that I could focus on the sensation and not my thoughts. I found out about this disaster when my mom and India were gossiping in the kitchen about how the poison was going to slowly eat Lenora until she took her last breath and how no human doctor could ever help her. Then I figured out that it was the reason behind my mom's overconfidence that my dad was never going to see Lenora again. "You are evil!" I barged into the kitchen and yelled at my mom and India. "So evil that the devil should be called a saint!"

My mind feels like it’s been shredded into pieces I can’t put back together. The light must wake her, because she stirs and begins to sit up groggily. “Dante?” Her voice is thick with sleep. She rubs her eyes, then looks at me carefully. “Where have you been?” “You were right.” The words slip out before I even think about them. She squints, confused. “What?” I hand her the paper. Her lashes flutter at it in the dim light, flipping through the pages. “What is this?” “Mama is being poisoned.”

The books I had cherished, once neatly organized, and the clothes I had carefully folded and placed in the corner, were now being sold off as if they were garbage. "What are you doing here?" Mom asked, her voice pulling me back to the present. I looked wistfully at the books tossed carelessly into burlap sacks. Then, with a heavy tone, I asked, "Where is Marianne?" "She's dead."

"And you still want the man? What would you do with a single father?" Mona scoffs. "Isn't that what we've got advanced poison for? Just give the baby a drop and she will drop dead. The father will remain mine. But first I'll start with that bitch who slapped me, I'll be content with killing her too, and then take the man. Then, sending the baby to heaven will be the straw on the camel's back"

but what other explanation would someone have for what had just happened to her, as far as she was concerned that was the only reasonable one she could give in other not to cause more issues for herself, she took a little step backwards and ran her hands through her head lifting her eyes up to the ceiling like the answers to her mother’s question were written on it, Zara followed her gaze looking quite troubled by her inability to answer her question but she didn’t want to rush her, it was best she allowed her think it over and remember their exact names as she is willing to go out into the woods in search of them, get it and study why it got her daughter poisoned, Zara was impatient and th

Mama was still there, approaching us with savored steps, and Hezekiah was still seizing on the ground, blood oozing out of his mouth as he gagged and heaved in pain. "Mama, what's happening?!" I cried to her. "What do we do?!" "Nothing," she answered. "After all, this is your fault." I stared up at her in awe and disgust. In confusion. In anger. "Wh-what are you talking about?" "The poison slowly making its way through his body. It came from you." "What are you talking about?" I fumed. "I never gave him any poison!"

So seeing him like this, seeing the emotions coming off him in waves, was both jarring and startling. “When Trista’s mother was pregnant with her, she showed signs of…poisoning,” my mother cut in. That caught me really off guard. Poisoning? Surely I hadn’t heard her correctly. “What are you talking about?” I said, my voice rising. This wasn’t making any sense. “Are you trying to tell me that Trista’s mother was poisoned?” My mother was avoiding eye contact now. She wrung her hands in front of her stomach. “Answer me,” I said. “Who poisoned her?”

But Tara grabbed me, holding me back with surprising strength. “ You shouldn’t upset Aunt Margaret any further,” she said softly, feigning concern. Mom finished the call and lowered her phone with an air of triumph. Her gaze pierced me, full of smug satisfaction. “It’s done. The box has already been burned. When you chose to do wrong, you should’ve known the price you’d pay.” My arms fell limp at my sides as the fight drained out of me. In my mind, I could see the box engulfed in flames, its contents reduced to ash.

I sit up in bed, confused. For a moment, she looks at me in bewilderment. Her eyes are big and brown. Her hair is long and dark. She lays her head on the pillow and starts brushing my hair with her little soft hands. "Why are you doing this to me, Mommy?" She asks softly. "Doing what?" "Killing me." She frowns. "With poison." "What do you mean?" I ask in confusion. "What poison?" She points to the bottle of liquor on the bedside table. I turn to look at her in confusion.