My Mother Killed Me For Her Stepdaughter novel Chapter 8

I wanted to shake her, to scream the truth in her face. My truth.

As much as I hated her, a part of me couldn't help but feel... something. Hope? Justice? Whatever it was, it was overshadowed by the cold reality of my death.

Back home, Mom was a woman possessed, frantically searching for something, anything. But she'd destroyed everything of mine.

Except...

She raced down to the basement, the stench no longer fazing her. She got down on her hands and knees, eyes scanning every inch of the concrete floor. And then she saw them: a few strands of my hair, clinging to the rough surface.

She clutched them like they were spun from gold, her eyes filled with a horrifying mix of grief and determination.

I followed her to a DNA testing center, my ghostly heart pounding. She'd believed Frank without a second thought, but a few strands of hair from a dead girl were enough to make her doubt.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

When the results came back, she collapsed onto the couch, her face ashen. And then, the dam broke.

"Annie! My baby girl!"

Sobs racked her body, tears streaming down her face. She crumpled to the floor, clutching my faded blue blanket, her forehead pressed against the cold tile.

She clapped her hands over her ears, her face contorted in terror. "No! You're dead! You're a ghost!"

Guilt, it seemed, was a powerful hallucinogen.

She stumbled to the bathroom and vomited.

But it was too late. Some things can't be undone.

When she emerged, her eyes were cold, calculating. She clutched the blanket to her chest, her voice a low murmur.