A Mother’s Love

"April showers bring May flowers," at least, that's what my Aunt Cindy used to tell me. She would always remind me of this when I was sitting inside on a cold, rainy day, staring longingly outside at the grey puffy clouds and the water falling from the skies. After I pout for a few moments longer, she would whisk me away to bake cookies or to play dress up with her clothes. I loved my Aunt Cindy as I would a mother, since mine had decided that I wasn't worth all the responsibility. I was lucky to have a caring person such as my Aunt Cindy come to my aid when my mom didn't want me. 

Now though, I have no one, because of one scared house robber with a gun. This robber had been taken by surprise completely when she first caught sight of my Aunt Cindy in her bathrobe, padding down the hallway to the bathroom, unaware of the trespasser right behind her. 

That's when she was shot, with her back turned to her murderer. 

I got home that night, as I had been at a friends house, to see Aunt Cindy's bloody body splayed out in the hallway. I screamed hysterically, my hand covering my mouth as I rushed over to her, afraid to touch her body and confirm what I knew to be true. Instead, I pulled my cell phone shakily out of my pocket, and called 911, my voice eerily calm while I explained to the operator what had happened. 

The police came, asking me millions of questions, and I barely remember any of the answers I gave. They then escorted me to a police car that was heading to the station, since I was a minor with no guardian and a killer was still at large. They had asked if I'd wanted to stay with a friend, but I was in no mood for company at that moment, so I opted for the police station in hopes that I would be forgotten in the bustle of people coming and going.

I vowed that night to take revenge on whoever it was that had robbed me of the one person who had loved me unconditionally my whole life. Eventually, I was placed with another relative, but I stayed in touch with the police, making sure that I was as involved in the investigation as I could be. That's how I found out who the robber was.

It was my mother.

She had came into the house, hoping to take some money for whatever it was that she did, while she thought no one was home. I don't know why she had a gun, but to me, that's not what matters. 

What matters is the fact that she was capable of using it on her sister. 

What matters is that she took the one person from me who loved me the way a mother was supposed to. 

What matters is that she needed to learn the consequences of her selfishness, once and for all.

And that, officer, is why I had to murder my mother.