The Monster They Made Me

The Monster They Made Me

Gavin

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My life was perfect. I was Sarah, a loving mom, taking my sweet six-year-old Lily to Kids' Kraft Korner, all smiles and glitter castles. In an instant, my world shattered. A bloodcurdling scream. I raced back inside to find Lily' s lifeless body, her head gone, crafting shears beside her. My heart died. The real nightmare began. My best friend, Jessica, shrieked, pointing at me. Detective Harding arrested me. My own husband, David, abandoned me, highlighting my past postpartum depression. The media branded me a monster; "Suburban Mother Snaps, Murders Daughter" screamed headlines, bolstered by manipulated footage and a janitor's twisted testimony. Under relentless accusations, I plunged into a torturous haze. Dr. Peterson, a psychologist David suggested, hypnotized me. Horrifying images flooded my mind: me, holding the shears, filled with rage, striking Lily. I confessed, truly believing the implanted memory, convinced I was a child killer. The "recalled" physical evidence-Lily' s head, found exactly where I "remembered" it-seemed to seal my monstrous fate. I was lost in self-loathing. Still, even through the despair, a tiny flicker of inner doubt persisted. Could I really have done this? Then, as I was dragged to court, I saw Jessica in the crowd. She wasn't yelling. She was smiling. A small, smug, triumphant smile. It wasn't my madness. That hateful smile ignited something raw. "You did this, Jessica! You set me up!" I screamed, tearing at my restraints. "She's having an affair with my husband! David is the father of her son!" My desperate accusation, fueled by rage, finally started to unravel the terrifying conspiracy, pulling me from the abyss of my false memory.

Introduction

My life was perfect. I was Sarah, a loving mom, taking my sweet six-year-old Lily to Kids' Kraft Korner, all smiles and glitter castles.

In an instant, my world shattered. A bloodcurdling scream.

I raced back inside to find Lily' s lifeless body, her head gone, crafting shears beside her. My heart died.

The real nightmare began. My best friend, Jessica, shrieked, pointing at me.

Detective Harding arrested me. My own husband, David, abandoned me, highlighting my past postpartum depression.

The media branded me a monster; "Suburban Mother Snaps, Murders Daughter" screamed headlines, bolstered by manipulated footage and a janitor's twisted testimony.

Under relentless accusations, I plunged into a torturous haze.

Dr. Peterson, a psychologist David suggested, hypnotized me. Horrifying images flooded my mind: me, holding the shears, filled with rage, striking Lily. I confessed, truly believing the implanted memory, convinced I was a child killer.

The "recalled" physical evidence-Lily' s head, found exactly where I "remembered" it-seemed to seal my monstrous fate. I was lost in self-loathing.

Still, even through the despair, a tiny flicker of inner doubt persisted. Could I really have done this?

Then, as I was dragged to court, I saw Jessica in the crowd. She wasn't yelling. She was smiling. A small, smug, triumphant smile. It wasn't my madness.

That hateful smile ignited something raw. "You did this, Jessica! You set me up!"

I screamed, tearing at my restraints. "She's having an affair with my husband! David is the father of her son!"

My desperate accusation, fueled by rage, finally started to unravel the terrifying conspiracy, pulling me from the abyss of my false memory.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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