Chapter 8
I didn’t move.
So she lunged for a crystal vase from the nightstand and hurled it at my head.
I dodged quickly, and the vase smashed hard against the wall behind me, shattering into a thousand glittering pieces on the floor.
“What the fuck are you still doing here?” she shrieked, her voice hoarse as torn fabric. “Get out! Get out! Go die in some sewer and never come back!”
Her screaming quickly dissolved into sobbing, her whole body trembling as if all strength had been drained from her.
Just then, my father burst into the room. He looked like he’d stumbled here from sleep, his shirt buttons all misaligned.
But when his gaze fell on my mother, what I saw wasn’t anxiety or concern.
It was rage. Cold and controlled, like lava suddenly erupting from beneath years of accumulated snow.
Without a word, he drove all five of us out.
No explanation, no eye contact, his movements urgent and rough, practically shoving us out the door.
But I didn’t go far.
remembered those pictures–I’d glimpsed accidentally that night before trying to escape.
needed answers. I needed to confirm suspicions I didn’t even want to admit to myself.
pressed against the door, peering through the crack.
slap!
Inside the room, the sound of palm meeting flesh exploded in my ears like a gunshot.
My father had slapped my mother, hard enough to snap her head to the side.
‘You useless bitch!” he roared. “Why can’t you even manage to keep one goddamn fetus safe?!”
Mom slowly covered her swollen cheek with her hand. She lifted her head slowly, and in her eyes was an emotion I’d never seen her show him before-
Hatred. Real, burning hatred.
02:40 O
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Fatal photos: My Mom Tried to Kill Me, and the World Cheered?
70.0‘
Chapter 8
In my memory, my parents had always been a respectful, flawless couple.
But now, all pretense was shredded.
Mom raised her head, staring him down defiantly, her eyes blazing with challenge.
And my father’s breathing was heavy, like a boiler about to explode.
‘Catelina,” he hissed through gritted teeth, each syllable wrapped in poison, “I’ve been way too fucking lenient with you…”
‘I told you this child had to be born safely. And now? You dare destroy everything I’ve worked for?!”
My father’s tone climbed sharply, fury seeping from every pore.
And my mother, cold as an iceberg, met his rage with contemptuous eyes. Her complete lack of remorse ignited him completely.
He lunged forward, five fingers clamping around her throat.
‘You failure of a woman!” he snarled. “The child is gone? Then you better make another one! Or die!”
His grip wasn’t tight enough to actually kill, but enough to suffocate. He didn’t want to kill her. He wanted her to
submit.
3ut my mother didn’t submit.
Instead, she gathered the last saliva in her mouth, tinged with blood, and spat it precisely in his face.
Her voice was low and hoarse, but every word cut deep:
‘Donovan, you’re fucking insane.”
‘That child deserved to die. It never should have been born.”
Her curse against the unborn baby sounded exactly like the tone she’d used with me all these years.
My chest felt crushed by a tombstone, each breath like swallowing wet concrete.
My father slapped her again, hard enough to knock her to the ground.
He pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the spit from his face with disgust, then coldly kicked her in the stomach.
‘You’re pathetic trash–you need to learn your place in this family!”
Mom clutched her belly, curled in a ball, and suddenly started laughing. The laughter was hollow, grating, like echoes from a deep well.
02:40
Fatal photos: My Mom Tried to Kill Me and the World Cheered?
73.39
Chapter 8
“I’m pathetic?” she laughed, her eyes full of hatred. “Look at yourself. A man who gets his kicks from destroying his own daughter. You’re not even human–you’re a deformed monster.”
My father’s pupils dilated suddenly, his breathing stopping short. He stared at her, speaking word by word:
“What. Did. You. Just. Say?”
Each word was like ice crashing on a floor in winter night–brittle and deadly.
Mom propped herself up, smiling coldly through gritted teeth, her voice like a blade:
“No, that’s wrong. Even monsters have shame.”
“You? You’re just a depraved, twisted pedophile who can’t hide what you are.”
The air seemed sucked dry, silent as a vacuum.
His temples bulged, the whites of his eyes filling with blood.
He roared and charged at her, savage beyond human.
“You lying whore–who told you?!”
02:40
