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Chapter 6 Stages of Grief
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A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 7 Gruesome Video
My mother worked for three days. She didn't sleep or rest. My mother lay on the ground, caressing my head inch by inch as she drew the portrait line by line. When the tenth portrait was made, her sanity finally crumbled.I was crouching right beside her as I looked at all the portraits she made. Yes, she was a good artist. The portraits were spitting images of me. I kept staring at the portraits and was a little surprised that my mother would make such a beautiful rendition of me.When I was eight years old, I, in my childlike naivete, thought that my mother was a great artist. I had no idea what her job really was about. So, I bragged about it to my classmates.They then wanted to find out how brilliant my mother was. They bet she wasn't better than Van Gogh, but I raised my head and said without hesitation, "Of course. She's the best in the world!"After school was out that day, I got home and did all my chores. Then, I carefully asked my mother if she could make a portrait of me
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 8 Too Late
The video ended, and chaos ensued in the autopsy room. Everyone was cursing the killer's cruelty. My mother remained on the ground, unmoving. It was as if she was petrified by some sort of higher power.I hung my head low, smiling bitterly. Ah, so that was it. No wonder the kidnapper never wanted money. No wonder he only wanted my mother to show up. This was nothing but revenge.I didn't know what to feel. Sadness, maybe. There was also relief, though. I was heartbroken about how little my mother cared about me. I was also glad she didn't come.Although my mother never loved me, she was a pro when it came to her job. There must be a reason why she refused to give the man's brother the portrait he asked for.I did resent her, but I would never want her to die. She was my mother, after all. I always held out hope that perhaps she would finally love me, even if the love she had for me was minuscule.That hope was dashed for good. After all, the dead had no use for love.…My mother
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 9 For the First Time
The interrogation was over. Victor requested a meeting with my mother, and she agreed. They met up, he looked at her, and he laughed."Are you crying? Finally? Finally feeling something for the girl?" He clicked his tongue. "It's such a pity. She called out to you right until the very end, you know."He pranced around in a sick imitation of my struggle before my death. "She flailed her arms just like this. 'Mommy, Mommy, save me!' Oh, she cried. Yes, she did. Right, right. You don't know this, but I called your youngest daughter first."He asked, "Know what she said? 'Just kill her. It's not like my mother loves her anyway. She wouldn't cry even if she died.' He cackled. "She's your daughter, alright. Every bit as despicable and heartless as her mother is."Victor cackled, gloating some kind of perverted satisfaction. My mother bent over in agony and spat a mouthful of blood. That only made Victor laugh harder.A long while later, my mother wiped the blood off her lips and said, "
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 10 Pity
This again. This was one of the tactics Yvonne loved to use on me. She'd 'accidentally' bring up the fact that I could live well even without them to my mother. She'd tell her how I was nice to everyone but them, that I was always distant when it came to them.That was how she deepened the conflict between my mother and me. That was how she made my mother hate me more. However, that tactic of hers finally failed. My mother swiveled around and stared into her soul with a gaze so chilly, it could freeze the whole house."Mom…" The moment she said that, my mother gave her one tight slap. That stunned her. My mother was holding my therapy records. It had the contents of my conversation with my therapist.'When did you start cutting yourself?''Grade Nine.''And how did these thoughts manifest themselves?''My sister framed me, and my mother didn't believe me. I didn't steal her money. She lied. She said I should've died like my brother did. She said I'm an omen. She said I'm someone
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 11 Decision
My mother woke up early the next day and went to the market. She was a frequent seafood buyer. The moment she showed up, the owner eagerly tried to sell their goods. They said they had big, fresh prawns."Why don't you get some, Melanie? I bet your daughter would love them."My mother said dazedly, "My daughter doesn't like prawns. She's allergic to seafood."The owner was stunned. "What? But I thought Eve loved prawns." My mother said nothing and went to the vegetable kiosk. She strolled around, picked up a carrot, and put it down. She did the same to the bell peppers. Odd.Even the owner found her behavior weird. So, they inquired, "What kind of cooking do you have in mind? Maybe I can give some recommendations?"I saw my mother standing in her spot, trying to think of something, but nothing came to her. Oh, right. She had no idea what my favorite food was. I never had the privilege of ordering the food I wanted, nor was I a picky eater like her.I had no freedom to choose. I
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 12 Death, Failure, Ambivalence
I wasn't too surprised. Yvonne was always the one she loved. However, my mother came into my room and locked herself inside when night fell. She was holding my portrait, caressing it with trembling fingers."I'm sorry, Jessica. I'm sorry. You must've been in a lot of pain. We failed you. I failed you. Wait for us. Your sister and I will go to you. You'll get the apology you deserve."She pulled open a drawer and took out a bottle of pills. She'd been having nightmares over the last few days, and they always woke her up. Eventually, she got herself some sleeping pills at the hospital.I watched her crushing a whole bottle of pills and dissolving the powder in water. The next day, she made a whole feast of Yvonne's favorite foods. Every single one of them was laced with sleeping liquid.Yvonne started feeling sleepy after the meal. So, she staggered back to her room and slept. My mother opened the door of Yvonne's room and took out her phone. She then locked the gate and shut all the
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 1 Dead and Unloved
I died. My dress was switched out for tattered fabric, and it hung loosely on my body. My face was a mess; knives slashed it all up. My soul was hovering in the air, not dissipating on just yet.I followed that strong feeling that had been tugging at me. Strangely, it led me home. My mother was in the living room, grunting as she pushed a gigantic gift box over to Yvonne Hendrickson.The box contained the gifts she had carefully picked for Yvonne. Every single one of them was worth a fortune. Me? My mother didn't even give me her best wishes when I came of age.All these years, the one thing she often told me was, "I wished it was you who died."When I was born, I was born a healthy baby. My twin brother, however, died before twenty-four hours were up. The doctor said my brother died of multiple organ failures, presumably because he didn't receive enough nourishment during gestation.The dame on the next bed was munching on her fruit and spoke of her experience. "Well, we have a s
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 2 Unloved
Yvonne noticed the disgust my mother had for me, and a small smile curled her lips. She raised her head and asked in feigned innocence, "What would you do if I was kidnapped, Mom?"My mother put down what she was holding and quickly approached Yvonne. Then, she enunciated solemnly, "I will not let that happen to you. If it does, I will make a portrait of the kidnapper the first chance I get and save you, trust me."Yvonne hugged Mom's arm and giggled cutely. "You're the best, Mom. Still, Jessica is also your daughter. We can forgive her for lying this time, can't we?"She looked so genuine. That look on her face took me back to three years ago. I had an important piano competition coming up, and I desperately wished for my mother to come. I wanted to show that I was good at something. I wanted to show that I could make her proud, too.I just wanted her to know I was no omen. I organized and reorganized my words before I made the call, and as carefully as a scared kitten afraid of
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A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 12 Death, Failure, Ambivalence
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 11 Decision
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 10 Pity
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 9 For the First Time
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 8 Too Late
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 7 Gruesome Video
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 6 Stages of Grief
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 5 The Truth
A Mother's Final Portrait Chapter 4 Deign
