When Your Child Becomes Your Killer

e cold, bitter taste of the tea my

g paralysis, my body shutting

a, my brilliant, successful daughter, watched. She was

ad poisoned me. Her viral video, released just a day before, had already kill

sp, my heart hammer

w house was thick with the familiar

rom my deathbed. They were my hands, strong and c

ou look like you'

woman in her late twenties, but my seventeen-year-old

paper, a triumphant, defian

per. It was the acceptance letter from the

s the m

tle of my first life began. The memor

creaming, the

forced her to reapply, forced her onto the

r in my face. "See? I told you I didn'

ion. I could feel the old Maria, the one who died, clawing insid

The memory of her cold, detached eyes watch

thought I'd feel again. I looked at my daughter, this beau

my voice unnervingly c

ltered. "Okay? Wha

I said, meeting her confuse

tain look in its place. She had come looking for a wa