My Mother Killed Me For Her Stepdaughter novel Chapter 5

She was so caught up, she'd forgotten all about their little agreement. Frank coughed awkwardly.

Mom clamped up, but her eyes were shining with a disturbing mix of joy and... something else. Guilt? Regret?

Bethany, prompted by Frank, hugged her. And that was that. Mother and daughter, reunited.

I wanted to scream. That was my blanket. My dad told me to cherish it. And it proved one thing: that horrible woman, the woman who'd left me to die, was my mother.

"Mom! That's mine! I'm your daughter!"

My voice echoed in the silent room, unheard. Unseen.

I was powerless, a spectator to my own twisted life.

Mom was on cloud nine, showering Bethany with gifts and affection. They went on shopping sprees, Bethany's room overflowing with stuff that should have been mine.

When the dust settled, Mom finally asked about the blanket. Frank, smooth as ever, lied, saying he must have put it in the wrong box when they moved in.

Mom believed him. Or maybe she just didn't want to know.

A few days later, Bethany, bless her evil little heart, suggested they check on me.

Mom hesitated, but Bethany put on her innocent act. "Maybe she didn't mean it, Mom. If she apologizes, maybe you could let her out?"

Mom ate it up, praising her kind heart. Bethany, armed with the basement key and a smug little smile, headed down.

Frank looked like he'd seen a ghost. But he kept his cool, patting Mom's back. "It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault."

Mom's eyes flickered. "Right... not my fault. She did it to herself!"

I watched them, a detached observer to my own demise. There was no grief in her eyes, no remorse. Just relief. To her, I was a burden, dead or alive.

And I'd craved her love my entire life.

Pathetic.

But now came the real problem: what to do with a rotting corpse? They couldn't exactly call the cops. Or the coroner. Or a priest, for that matter.