I think my mum wants to kill me and I don't know what to…
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I think my mum wants to kill me and I don't know what to do
I need help because I don't know what to do.
I am locked in my room right now, and I am scared. My mum is outside and I know that if I let her inside - or if she manages to break in - something bad is going to happen to me.
I can't reason with her and I can't stop her. She won't listen to me. It's like she is not even herself anymore.
You need to understand, she wasn't always like this. She used to be a sweet and loving person, the best mother that I could've asked for, the best I could find to take care of me.
But then, she had beginning to change.
It all started four months ago, when I came back from school. As per usual, I put my backpack down and took off my shoes. I was about to say hello to her when I found her looking at me with a strange expression on her face.
"What are you doing?"
She asked it as if I was doing something weird. I was just putting my slipper on and putting my shoes away so I just pointed that out.
She looked even more lost at my answer. She stared at me for a couple of minutes, then nodded and went back to the kitchen like nothing really happened.
I followed her and she started making dinner for me, like always, and asked me how school went and kept acting normal for the rest of the day.
Then, a couple of weeks later, I caught her going through my backpack. She had taken everything outside and was looking at my notebooks, splayed out in front of her on the floor.
"Mum, are you alright?"
She looked at me with something that looked like panic on her face.
She tried to compose herself but she seemed… nervous.
"It's nothing sweety, I was just- "
She didn't have a logical - or even illogical - explanation to give me. She just put everything back inside and walked away. When I tried to ask her about it later, she denied doing that but it's not like I didn't saw her doing exactly what I was inquiring about. It was just weird but I tried to ignore it because I knew the past month had been harsh for her for a lot of reasons and I didn't want to upset her but… I admit I started to put my backpack in my room and not leave it around.
Another time, while we were sitting in the living room watching TV, she looked at me and asked me if I wanted a snack.
I said okay because who am I to say no to food after all and she disappeared in the kitchen. I found it a bit weird because she usually was against snack past 8 pm but being a teenager I sure wasn't going to stop her from breaking her own rules.
She brought back some popcorn and candies and even some chocolate covered strawberries. Her favorite. She usually didn't share it because it was her *guilty pleasure* for her *cheat day* but honestly I wasn't going to say no to them.
She got back on the couch and we both started going through the food as we watched the movie.
After a while, I noticed that she was softly weeping. I asked her what was wrong but she just said "nothing sweetheart. Let's just finish the movie."
She kept crying for the whole time and even after I laid down in my bed I kept hearing her weep from her own bedroom.
That freaked me out, honestly, and from that point things started getting worse.
I mean, up to that moment it had just been weird stuff, but nothing downright creepy. I had found her wandering in my room every now and then but she didn't appear to touch anything and she is my mother so… you know, nothing weird about that. She was probably looking for something I had misplaced. I wasn't really keen on tyding up but once again I am a teenager so that's pretty normal I guess.
Sometimes I caught her staring at me as I did my homework like I was doing something wrong. Once, I even tried to joke about not doing them if it upset her so much but she didn't find it funny apparently and she just snapped at me and said to finish up with whatever I was doing.
She started refusing to hug me and even flinched when I touched her. That upset me, of course. It hurt to see the only parent you've been able to not make run away from you refusing to show you affection.
Nothing felt really scary, though, until I caught her watching me shower.
I was just washing myself, singing terribly off tune as one does while, and happened to look towards the door. I almost had an heart attack when I did so. My mother was there, just behind it. She had opened the door just enough to peep inside with the upper part of her face, the tips of her fingers barely holding the wooden surface, and she was looking at me.
No, not looking. Staring.
I screamed more out of surprise then embarrassment. I mean, I am 16, me and my mum are the only people in the house and we're both girls and yeah it's not like she had never seen me naked but- it was just weird that she was basically spying on me.
I asker her what was she doing but instead of answering me she lingered a few seconds more before she just closed the door and went away.
I waited to her her footstep disappear down the hallway before I run out and locked myself in.
I started always locking the door when I showered and more than once in the past weeks I heard the door rattle as if she was trying to open it still.
When I was able to find the courage to do so, I tried to ask her about it and she just said "I just need to look at you, sweety. Like really look at you. See you as you are. Entirely, as you are."
The way she said it, voice soft and almost pleading as she stared at me with her blue eyes wide open and pointed on my face… It chilled me to the bones.
She refused to elaborate further.
Then, I started to notice how she seemed to follow me around, lingering behind my back wherever I was.
If I turned from my desk I would find her there, behind the door, like she did with the bathroom one, barely peeking out and just… looking. Staring. Her eyes big and open and focused on me. Barely blinking. If I stared back, she retrieved and went away but as soon as I turned I could feel her steps coming back towards my room.
If I sat on the couch she would come sitting with me and staring as I watched TV or scrolled on my phone.
At one point, I am not exactly sure when, she stopped going to work. She sat in the house all day - or so i figured - waiting for me to come home so she could spend the rest of the time where I was, looking at me.
That was what I believed was happening. Until I saw her when I was out with my friends.
We were just hanging out, eating some shitty fast food at the mall when one of my friends pointed behind my back.
"Hey, isn't that your mum?"
I felt a shiver run down my spine. And of course, when I turned to check, there she was. Sitting at a bar right across, staring. She didn't even try to pretend she wasn't there. She didn't wave, didn't say a thing. She simply got up and went away.
From that point forward, I could not stop myself. Every time I was outside, I started looking for her. And sure enough, if I really looked carefully, I could spot her almost every time I was outside the house, following me around.
She never approached nor she ever acknowledge doing it. When I came home she was there and she pretended nothing happened.
It creeped me the fuck out. The way she acted, the way she looked at me, the way she was constantly saying weird stuff.
A couple of weeks ago I woke up to her watching me sleep. The dim light of the streetlamps coming from my window reflected in her eyes, making them look like two orangish dot in the darkness, peeking from behind my door like usual.
They stared at me, disappearing every few seconds when she blinked. As I got used to the darkness I started to distinguish the shape of her upper head, her unruly curls making it look all weird. There was a light tapping sound and it took me a while to realize it wasn't raining. It was her, her nails beating softly and rhythmically against the wooden surface like she was impatiently waiting for something.
I was completely paralyzed, the only think I was able to do was stare back. After some unbearable minutes the orangish dots disappeared and I didn't saw them flashing back again as darkness lost her shape and become empty once again.
I tried not to think about it. I tried to rationalize it. Maybe she was just checking if I was asleep and I caught her in the moment. Maybe she had heard me mumbling in my sleep and she wanted to check if I was okay.
But I have to be honest: never amount of self reassurance I could provide for myself stopped me to lock my bedroom door too when I went to sleep.
In the following days, she changed even more. She started screaming at me, throwing me stuff, calling me names.
Honestly, at this point, I don't recognize her anymore. My mum is gone, completely taken away from me by this stranger that she has become.
Last week, I woke up to her standing near my bed, watching me with an even stranger look on her face. The chilling realization that the previous night I had forgotten to lock the door made me shake violently as I scrambled to turn my lamp on.
I heard that she whispering something to herself in a hush tone of voice.
"You shouldn't- shouldn't let her- let her in here- do the right thing- you shouldn't- right thing-"
I yelled at her "What are you talking about!" and as soon as the light hit her she squeezed her eyes shut and she seemed to suddenly snap out of it. She run out of the room and I heard her cry for the rest of the night despite the fact that this time around I made sure to lock the door. I even put a chair in front of it.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen something in her hand reflecting the light with a metallic glow.
Now, things are worse then even.
She had tried to open the door, every night she has been trying, for the past week. She had become more violent as days went by.
At first, she just tried to enter, moving the handle up and down, shaking it. Then, she started scratching the wood, pressing her fingernails on it like she could dig her way in into the wooden surface like some kind of animal. The screeching sound always started out slow and soft and then turned progressively into a frantic motion that sung a discordant melody of desperation.
After the scratching, came the banging. Firstly, knocking as if she was asking the permission to come in. Then, pounding her first against the door so violently that I couldn't imagine that it wasn't hurting her.
And a couple of days ago she even started kicking the door before running away with frustrated screams because she couldn't get in.
In the morning, she acted like nothing had happened and I pretended to not see her bruised knuckles, the violet and purplish colors of the side of her hands, the broken nails still sometimes bleeding.
I ignored is as much as I ignored the signs on my bedroom door, the marks of the scratching, the red of her blood and here and there the white small pieces of her nails still etched into the wood.
I had stopped going to school. I had nowhere to go. She would have just followed me.
I will admit I had been scared to open my door in the morning for the past week now, afraid to find her right behind it.
And yesterday, when I got out, something had changed. Instead of hearing her moving around downstairs, I heard absolutely nothing.
"Mum?" I called, poking outside the door, staring at the stairs on my left. And then, the well known sensation of being looked at prickled the back of my neck.
I turned.
I found her looking at me by the end of the corridor, head poking outside her own bedroom's door, bloodshot eyes wide open and staring at me. This time, it wasn't just the top of her head and her eyes that pocked out.
Her entire head was, tilted in a way that allowed her to rest her chin on the edge of the door. Her mouth was contorted in what seemed to be a grin, but opened as if she was screaming although no sound came out of her except the wheezing one of her breathing.
I was terrified. I didn't dare to came out . I simply shut my door again and locked it putting again a chair underneath the handle. I only came out once in the entire day, running for the door in front of mine and locking it behind me to use the bathroom.
It took me almost twenty minutes before I was able to find the courage to make a terrified sprint to went back my bedroom and I didn't come out ever since.
I didn't look but I almost certain that when I run back the sound of her breathing was closer then it was before.
I thought about running down the stairs, but I am too scared. I could hear her shuffling up and down, right in front of my door.
Night came and the whole ordeal started once again, more violent then ever. She rattled the handle, scratched, banged, kicked. Screamed for me to open up.
"It's just your mum sweetheart! Open the door for mum! Let me in honey!"
She screamed it like she was desperate to come in, voice broken and raspy, crying and wailing in a way that sounded inhuman.
"I don't want to hurt you! I don't want to hurt you!"
I didn't believe her before and I don't believe her now.
I haven't step foot out of my room since yesterday night. I can hear her. Her ragged and syncopated breathing coming just behind my door. And that weak, rhythmic sound of her fingers, now duller since I don't think she has any fingernails left to scratch the wood with.
She is still begging me to open the door. Her voice is barely a hoarse whisper chocked by frail and wet sobs. She calls my name, asking me to just let her in, to just let her do the right thing.
If she manages to open the door, I am sure she will kill me.
If you have any advice, please, just help me. I don't want to call the police and have her taken away.
I don't want to loose her. I just want my sweet, loving, mum back. I just want her to love me like she is supposed to. Like the good mother I know she used to be.
That's why she was chosen, after all.
Besides, I have really just started making myself comfortable in this life.
I can't stand the though of being an orphan all over again.
#entertainment
source
I need help because I don't know what to do.
I am locked in my room right now, and I am scared. My mum is outside and I know that if I let her inside - or if she manages to break in - something bad is going to happen to me.
I can't reason with her and I can't stop her. She won't listen to me. It's like she is not even herself anymore.
You need to understand, she wasn't always like this. She used to be a sweet and loving person, the best mother that I could've asked for, the best I could find to take care of me.
But then, she had beginning to change.
It all started four months ago, when I came back from school. As per usual, I put my backpack down and took off my shoes. I was about to say hello to her when I found her looking at me with a strange expression on her face.
"What are you doing?"
She asked it as if I was doing something weird. I was just putting my slipper on and putting my shoes away so I just pointed that out.
She looked even more lost at my answer. She stared at me for a couple of minutes, then nodded and went back to the kitchen like nothing really happened.
I followed her and she started making dinner for me, like always, and asked me how school went and kept acting normal for the rest of the day.
Then, a couple of weeks later, I caught her going through my backpack. She had taken everything outside and was looking at my notebooks, splayed out in front of her on the floor.
"Mum, are you alright?"
She looked at me with something that looked like panic on her face.
She tried to compose herself but she seemed… nervous.
"It's nothing sweety, I was just- "
She didn't have a logical - or even illogical - explanation to give me. She just put everything back inside and walked away. When I tried to ask her about it later, she denied doing that but it's not like I didn't saw her doing exactly what I was inquiring about. It was just weird but I tried to ignore it because I knew the past month had been harsh for her for a lot of reasons and I didn't want to upset her but… I admit I started to put my backpack in my room and not leave it around.
Another time, while we were sitting in the living room watching TV, she looked at me and asked me if I wanted a snack.
I said okay because who am I to say no to food after all and she disappeared in the kitchen. I found it a bit weird because she usually was against snack past 8 pm but being a teenager I sure wasn't going to stop her from breaking her own rules.
She brought back some popcorn and candies and even some chocolate covered strawberries. Her favorite. She usually didn't share it because it was her *guilty pleasure* for her *cheat day* but honestly I wasn't going to say no to them.
She got back on the couch and we both started going through the food as we watched the movie.
After a while, I noticed that she was softly weeping. I asked her what was wrong but she just said "nothing sweetheart. Let's just finish the movie."
She kept crying for the whole time and even after I laid down in my bed I kept hearing her weep from her own bedroom.
That freaked me out, honestly, and from that point things started getting worse.
I mean, up to that moment it had just been weird stuff, but nothing downright creepy. I had found her wandering in my room every now and then but she didn't appear to touch anything and she is my mother so… you know, nothing weird about that. She was probably looking for something I had misplaced. I wasn't really keen on tyding up but once again I am a teenager so that's pretty normal I guess.
Sometimes I caught her staring at me as I did my homework like I was doing something wrong. Once, I even tried to joke about not doing them if it upset her so much but she didn't find it funny apparently and she just snapped at me and said to finish up with whatever I was doing.
She started refusing to hug me and even flinched when I touched her. That upset me, of course. It hurt to see the only parent you've been able to not make run away from you refusing to show you affection.
Nothing felt really scary, though, until I caught her watching me shower.
I was just washing myself, singing terribly off tune as one does while, and happened to look towards the door. I almost had an heart attack when I did so. My mother was there, just behind it. She had opened the door just enough to peep inside with the upper part of her face, the tips of her fingers barely holding the wooden surface, and she was looking at me.
No, not looking. Staring.
I screamed more out of surprise then embarrassment. I mean, I am 16, me and my mum are the only people in the house and we're both girls and yeah it's not like she had never seen me naked but- it was just weird that she was basically spying on me.
I asker her what was she doing but instead of answering me she lingered a few seconds more before she just closed the door and went away.
I waited to her her footstep disappear down the hallway before I run out and locked myself in.
I started always locking the door when I showered and more than once in the past weeks I heard the door rattle as if she was trying to open it still.
When I was able to find the courage to do so, I tried to ask her about it and she just said "I just need to look at you, sweety. Like really look at you. See you as you are. Entirely, as you are."
The way she said it, voice soft and almost pleading as she stared at me with her blue eyes wide open and pointed on my face… It chilled me to the bones.
She refused to elaborate further.
Then, I started to notice how she seemed to follow me around, lingering behind my back wherever I was.
If I turned from my desk I would find her there, behind the door, like she did with the bathroom one, barely peeking out and just… looking. Staring. Her eyes big and open and focused on me. Barely blinking. If I stared back, she retrieved and went away but as soon as I turned I could feel her steps coming back towards my room.
If I sat on the couch she would come sitting with me and staring as I watched TV or scrolled on my phone.
At one point, I am not exactly sure when, she stopped going to work. She sat in the house all day - or so i figured - waiting for me to come home so she could spend the rest of the time where I was, looking at me.
That was what I believed was happening. Until I saw her when I was out with my friends.
We were just hanging out, eating some shitty fast food at the mall when one of my friends pointed behind my back.
"Hey, isn't that your mum?"
I felt a shiver run down my spine. And of course, when I turned to check, there she was. Sitting at a bar right across, staring. She didn't even try to pretend she wasn't there. She didn't wave, didn't say a thing. She simply got up and went away.
From that point forward, I could not stop myself. Every time I was outside, I started looking for her. And sure enough, if I really looked carefully, I could spot her almost every time I was outside the house, following me around.
She never approached nor she ever acknowledge doing it. When I came home she was there and she pretended nothing happened.
It creeped me the fuck out. The way she acted, the way she looked at me, the way she was constantly saying weird stuff.
A couple of weeks ago I woke up to her watching me sleep. The dim light of the streetlamps coming from my window reflected in her eyes, making them look like two orangish dot in the darkness, peeking from behind my door like usual.
They stared at me, disappearing every few seconds when she blinked. As I got used to the darkness I started to distinguish the shape of her upper head, her unruly curls making it look all weird. There was a light tapping sound and it took me a while to realize it wasn't raining. It was her, her nails beating softly and rhythmically against the wooden surface like she was impatiently waiting for something.
I was completely paralyzed, the only think I was able to do was stare back. After some unbearable minutes the orangish dots disappeared and I didn't saw them flashing back again as darkness lost her shape and become empty once again.
I tried not to think about it. I tried to rationalize it. Maybe she was just checking if I was asleep and I caught her in the moment. Maybe she had heard me mumbling in my sleep and she wanted to check if I was okay.
But I have to be honest: never amount of self reassurance I could provide for myself stopped me to lock my bedroom door too when I went to sleep.
In the following days, she changed even more. She started screaming at me, throwing me stuff, calling me names.
Honestly, at this point, I don't recognize her anymore. My mum is gone, completely taken away from me by this stranger that she has become.
Last week, I woke up to her standing near my bed, watching me with an even stranger look on her face. The chilling realization that the previous night I had forgotten to lock the door made me shake violently as I scrambled to turn my lamp on.
I heard that she whispering something to herself in a hush tone of voice.
"You shouldn't- shouldn't let her- let her in here- do the right thing- you shouldn't- right thing-"
I yelled at her "What are you talking about!" and as soon as the light hit her she squeezed her eyes shut and she seemed to suddenly snap out of it. She run out of the room and I heard her cry for the rest of the night despite the fact that this time around I made sure to lock the door. I even put a chair in front of it.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen something in her hand reflecting the light with a metallic glow.
Now, things are worse then even.
She had tried to open the door, every night she has been trying, for the past week. She had become more violent as days went by.
At first, she just tried to enter, moving the handle up and down, shaking it. Then, she started scratching the wood, pressing her fingernails on it like she could dig her way in into the wooden surface like some kind of animal. The screeching sound always started out slow and soft and then turned progressively into a frantic motion that sung a discordant melody of desperation.
After the scratching, came the banging. Firstly, knocking as if she was asking the permission to come in. Then, pounding her first against the door so violently that I couldn't imagine that it wasn't hurting her.
And a couple of days ago she even started kicking the door before running away with frustrated screams because she couldn't get in.
In the morning, she acted like nothing had happened and I pretended to not see her bruised knuckles, the violet and purplish colors of the side of her hands, the broken nails still sometimes bleeding.
I ignored is as much as I ignored the signs on my bedroom door, the marks of the scratching, the red of her blood and here and there the white small pieces of her nails still etched into the wood.
I had stopped going to school. I had nowhere to go. She would have just followed me.
I will admit I had been scared to open my door in the morning for the past week now, afraid to find her right behind it.
And yesterday, when I got out, something had changed. Instead of hearing her moving around downstairs, I heard absolutely nothing.
"Mum?" I called, poking outside the door, staring at the stairs on my left. And then, the well known sensation of being looked at prickled the back of my neck.
I turned.
I found her looking at me by the end of the corridor, head poking outside her own bedroom's door, bloodshot eyes wide open and staring at me. This time, it wasn't just the top of her head and her eyes that pocked out.
Her entire head was, tilted in a way that allowed her to rest her chin on the edge of the door. Her mouth was contorted in what seemed to be a grin, but opened as if she was screaming although no sound came out of her except the wheezing one of her breathing.
I was terrified. I didn't dare to came out . I simply shut my door again and locked it putting again a chair underneath the handle. I only came out once in the entire day, running for the door in front of mine and locking it behind me to use the bathroom.
It took me almost twenty minutes before I was able to find the courage to make a terrified sprint to went back my bedroom and I didn't come out ever since.
I didn't look but I almost certain that when I run back the sound of her breathing was closer then it was before.
I thought about running down the stairs, but I am too scared. I could hear her shuffling up and down, right in front of my door.
Night came and the whole ordeal started once again, more violent then ever. She rattled the handle, scratched, banged, kicked. Screamed for me to open up.
"It's just your mum sweetheart! Open the door for mum! Let me in honey!"
She screamed it like she was desperate to come in, voice broken and raspy, crying and wailing in a way that sounded inhuman.
"I don't want to hurt you! I don't want to hurt you!"
I didn't believe her before and I don't believe her now.
I haven't step foot out of my room since yesterday night. I can hear her. Her ragged and syncopated breathing coming just behind my door. And that weak, rhythmic sound of her fingers, now duller since I don't think she has any fingernails left to scratch the wood with.
She is still begging me to open the door. Her voice is barely a hoarse whisper chocked by frail and wet sobs. She calls my name, asking me to just let her in, to just let her do the right thing.
If she manages to open the door, I am sure she will kill me.
If you have any advice, please, just help me. I don't want to call the police and have her taken away.
I don't want to loose her. I just want my sweet, loving, mum back. I just want her to love me like she is supposed to. Like the good mother I know she used to be.
That's why she was chosen, after all.
Besides, I have really just started making myself comfortable in this life.
I can't stand the though of being an orphan all over again.
#entertainment
source
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