We Ate Our Daughter

We Ate Our Daughter

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
39
View
11
Chapters

Thanksgiving. The smell of roast turkey usually fills me with warmth, but not this year. My seven-year-old daughter, Lily, wasn't at the table. She was supposedly at my sister-in-law Jess' s mother' s house for a spontaneous sleepover with Jess' s son, Kyle - a plan that immediately set my maternal alarms ringing. My husband, Mark, dismissed my concerns, utterly captivated by the pumpkin pie Jess brought. My unease festered, especially after Mark' s tender whisper in his sleep: "Jess... oh, Jess..." The affair was real. Days blurred into anxious searching and growing fear, until a casual phone call Mark took on our landline - a line we barely used anymore - jolted me. He scoffed, "Telemarketers. Trying to sell cemetery plots by saying our kid' s ashes are lost. Sickos." "Ashes." The word hit me like a physical blow. My mother' s intuition roared. I sped to the only crematorium in town. There, I learned the horrifying truth: Lily was brought in by Jess, already dead, cremated. All that remained was her friendship bracelet, a tiny testament to a life brutally cut short. The shock gave way to pure, unadulterated horror when Detective Reynolds came. Brenda, Jess's mother, had confessed. Lily' s ashes were mixed into the Thanksgiving pumpkin pie. We had eaten our daughter. The police, swayed by Mark who called my pleas a "domestic dispute," provided no immediate help, deepening my furious despair. But this unspeakable act ignited a fire within me. Justice, if not served by the law, would be found. I would unravel every thread of Jess' s monstrous plot, including the fate of her son, Kyle. This was no longer just about grief; it was about a mother' s relentless pursuit of truth and vengeance, no matter the cost, to expose the pure evil that had consumed my family.

Introduction

Thanksgiving.

The smell of roast turkey usually fills me with warmth, but not this year.

My seven-year-old daughter, Lily, wasn't at the table. She was supposedly at my sister-in-law Jess' s mother' s house for a spontaneous sleepover with Jess' s son, Kyle - a plan that immediately set my maternal alarms ringing.

My husband, Mark, dismissed my concerns, utterly captivated by the pumpkin pie Jess brought.

My unease festered, especially after Mark' s tender whisper in his sleep: "Jess... oh, Jess..."

The affair was real.

Days blurred into anxious searching and growing fear, until a casual phone call Mark took on our landline - a line we barely used anymore - jolted me.

He scoffed, "Telemarketers. Trying to sell cemetery plots by saying our kid' s ashes are lost. Sickos."

"Ashes." The word hit me like a physical blow.

My mother' s intuition roared. I sped to the only crematorium in town.

There, I learned the horrifying truth: Lily was brought in by Jess, already dead, cremated. All that remained was her friendship bracelet, a tiny testament to a life brutally cut short.

The shock gave way to pure, unadulterated horror when Detective Reynolds came.

Brenda, Jess's mother, had confessed. Lily' s ashes were mixed into the Thanksgiving pumpkin pie.

We had eaten our daughter. The police, swayed by Mark who called my pleas a "domestic dispute," provided no immediate help, deepening my furious despair.

But this unspeakable act ignited a fire within me.

Justice, if not served by the law, would be found.

I would unravel every thread of Jess' s monstrous plot, including the fate of her son, Kyle.

This was no longer just about grief; it was about a mother' s relentless pursuit of truth and vengeance, no matter the cost, to expose the pure evil that had consumed my family.

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
Broken Bonds, New Bloom

Broken Bonds, New Bloom

Short stories

5.0

The judge' s voice was a low drone, stamping out the last echoes of a life I barely recognized. "Divorce granted." My husband, Daniel, wasn' t there, called away by "duty"-a last-minute training, his lawyer smoothly explained. It was always duty, always Olivia, his "fragile" niece, who overshadowed everything. My last day at the fire station, a small comfort, was shattered when Daniel appeared, asking me to drop the papers. He even tried a surprise birthday gift, only to abandon me when Olivia had another "panic attack." I filed for divorce, expediting my transfer to a small town. But before I could leave, Daniel burst in with Olivia, whose innocent eyes hid a smirk. They' d invaded my last sanctuary. Then, I overheard Olivia, the so-called fragile niece, passionately kissing Daniel while begging him to choose her and "let me go." My world crumbled. This wasn't a family; it was a sick, twisted drama. I was the villain, destroying their codependent world. And then Olivia, in a dramatic display, ran headfirst into a wall, collapsing in a pool of blood. Daniel scooped her up, his eyes accusing me. My fault. Always my fault. I didn' t understand. How could I be blamed for her manipulative antics? How could he be so blind? This wasn't just about an affair; it was a decade of emotional suffocation. I was drowning, and he was too focused on her tears to notice. I picked up the divorce papers, the ones he hadn't received because Olivia had intercepted them. The true nature of their warped bond finally became horrifyingly clear. I drove away, toward a new city, a new life, finally ready to let go of the man who had loved duty more than me-or so I thought.

You'll also like

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book