My Mother, The Monster

My Mother, The Monster

Eydie Pfefferle

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I gasped awake, my throat burning. Downstairs, Mom shrieked at Dad about 'Emily' again, their usual symphony of bitterness. I was used to it, used to being Mom' s property, something she controlled, ever since she trapped Dad with a fake pregnancy years ago. She never forgave him Emily, and she never forgave me for being his daughter. But this morning, a chilling memory, vivid as real life, clung to me: peanuts, my throat closing, Mom just watching. A taste of death. It wasn't a dream. It was a premonition, my own death at her hands, if I didn't act. The thought alone sent shivers down my spine. This wasn't just a difficult mother; I saw her clearly for the first time: a monster. My heart hammered, a desperate drumbeat, as every sugary word, every controlling glance, every public humiliation she inflicted felt like a suffocating vice. Dad, weak and defeated, could only offer whispered apologies, seeing my suffering but perpetually helpless. I wouldn't be her victim anymore. I wouldn't end up on that kitchen floor, struggling for breath while she calmly watched. Not this time. My resolve hardened into something cold and sharp, a desperate decision: I had to get out, and I had to take Dad with me.

My Mother, The Monster Introduction

I gasped awake, my throat burning.

Downstairs, Mom shrieked at Dad about 'Emily' again, their usual symphony of bitterness.

I was used to it, used to being Mom' s property, something she controlled, ever since she trapped Dad with a fake pregnancy years ago.

She never forgave him Emily, and she never forgave me for being his daughter.

But this morning, a chilling memory, vivid as real life, clung to me: peanuts, my throat closing, Mom just watching.

A taste of death.

It wasn't a dream.

It was a premonition, my own death at her hands, if I didn't act.

The thought alone sent shivers down my spine.

This wasn't just a difficult mother; I saw her clearly for the first time: a monster.

My heart hammered, a desperate drumbeat, as every sugary word, every controlling glance, every public humiliation she inflicted felt like a suffocating vice.

Dad, weak and defeated, could only offer whispered apologies, seeing my suffering but perpetually helpless.

I wouldn't be her victim anymore.

I wouldn't end up on that kitchen floor, struggling for breath while she calmly watched.

Not this time.

My resolve hardened into something cold and sharp, a desperate decision: I had to get out, and I had to take Dad with me.

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The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

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My Mother, The Monster My Mother, The Monster Eydie Pfefferle Young Adult
“I gasped awake, my throat burning. Downstairs, Mom shrieked at Dad about 'Emily' again, their usual symphony of bitterness. I was used to it, used to being Mom' s property, something she controlled, ever since she trapped Dad with a fake pregnancy years ago. She never forgave him Emily, and she never forgave me for being his daughter. But this morning, a chilling memory, vivid as real life, clung to me: peanuts, my throat closing, Mom just watching. A taste of death. It wasn't a dream. It was a premonition, my own death at her hands, if I didn't act. The thought alone sent shivers down my spine. This wasn't just a difficult mother; I saw her clearly for the first time: a monster. My heart hammered, a desperate drumbeat, as every sugary word, every controlling glance, every public humiliation she inflicted felt like a suffocating vice. Dad, weak and defeated, could only offer whispered apologies, seeing my suffering but perpetually helpless. I wouldn't be her victim anymore. I wouldn't end up on that kitchen floor, struggling for breath while she calmly watched. Not this time. My resolve hardened into something cold and sharp, a desperate decision: I had to get out, and I had to take Dad with me.”
1

Introduction

11/06/2025

2

Chapter 1

11/06/2025

3

Chapter 2

11/06/2025

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Chapter 3

11/06/2025

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Chapter 4

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Chapter 5

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Chapter 6

11/06/2025

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Chapter 7

11/06/2025

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Chapter 8

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Chapter 9

11/06/2025

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Chapter 10

11/06/2025