"Happy birthday baby”

She pulled me into an embrace and I took my time to savor the moment. Discreetly running my fingers through her hair, rubbing my unworthy self against her Divine skin,

I did my best to conceal my frown when she pulled away. I would willingly spend my final moments in the arms of this woman. Resting my weary head against her chest. Her heartbeat, a sweet lullaby sending me into a peaceful, eternal slumber.

She smiled at me. That beautiful smile that made even angels sing. She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. At that moment, I knew how the witch in The Wizard of Oz felt, I was melting.

“Did you like your present, Charlie?” I nodded. Placing my palm on the Stephen King novel she’d gifted me. I barely spoke around her, but she was never bothered. Unlike most people, she didn’t think I was odd. In fact, she told me she enjoyed my company a lot.
She was always nice to me. She cooked for me, cleaned up after me and bought me nice things. Occasionally, she would sing me to sleep if I had a nightmare. She was perfection, like a pretty Rose, and everybody lo
Loved her. But not like me, nobody could love her like me.
I knew she loved me too, and my happiest moments were when she told me she did. My happy moments became less and less. She didn’t smile so much anymore, drank more and hardly spoke to me. I would hear her cry sometimes, and it didn’t make sense. Wasn’t I enough to make her happy? Maybe I wasn’t good enough. I had to be enough for her. I had to try.

Eventually, when I got a little older, the happy moments came back. She smiled more, drank less and kept me company now. I did it. I was finally enough for her. Or so I thought. It wasn’t me, I wasn’t enough for her. Somebody else was.

That wretched man. He was the one who made her happy, not me. What did I have to do to be enough for her? How many times did I have to say I loved her before she truly understood. How could she be so easily swayed by these false lovers who weren’t even a good match?

None of them would love her like me? My love was what pushed me to bash her husband’s head in with a sledgehammer. He wasn’t good enough for her. And yet, she mourned him for years. That filth who would sleep with disgusting prostitutes behind her back.


I was insulted by this, and I had to do something. To protect her. She deserved better. This new one is different, but nobody deserves her but me. Deserves her love, her kisses, deserves her entire being.


And as I watch him bleed out, clutching the hole I put in his neck with the screwdriver. I smile to myself.
Nobody can ever love my mom more than me.