The Cost of a Sham Motherhood

Into a tenebrous room in the basement, Mrs. Aries was stirred to spend four weeks in a heavy coma. Wherein her soul was embedded between life and death.

"She truly looks like an angel," admitted Brice with amorous eyes.

"Poor her!" emotionally voiced Lune with questionable stares.

"Will she ever forgive you, Lulu?" unexpectedly queried Brice.

Her hushed whines along with inconsolable remembrances were her unspoken answer. For a spell, Lune preferred to commemorate her dead paramour through a time travel to the past. As expected from men, Alain used to cheat on Ange with Ms. Auclair. This latter hence thought of the very last time when she and Alain left Angela in dismay to in return revel their love affair in her small apartment, which was still kept under wraps.

"Who can ever believe that Mr. Aries, the most ideal husband, is a cheater?" soughed Lune.

Upon this random confession, Mrs. Aries arose from a fugacious death. Her cries of grief that outreached the Verdens Ende explained well her instant reaction. And indeed, she knew everything.

Onto a traditional rocking chair, Angela losingly perched to plain for her two deceased beloveds while facing a blood-soaked broken wall-mounted mirror. With her left hand, she tried hard to scratch the blood marks from Alain's celadon T. shirt. And with her right hand, she kept on smelling her newborn's red cotton layette. As soon as Ange was puling, heavy blood drops like hailstones tumbled down to smear both of her priceless souvenirs. Before going berserk, she had felt a gentle squeeze from the back. And she had heard a familiar voice stating: "My love, let's hurry upstairs to check up on our baby!" Once Mrs. Aries excitedly chose to give up the ghost of reality, she heard a far-flung whine of her offspring. As her heart throbbed with curiosity, her soul escorted her to the wellspring of whimpers. Angela implausibly espied a commonplace well. In her dashing advance, she beheld her baby getting sunk by some grisly hands. To her trauma, Ange stood inert in her spot. As she was observing this appalling scene which summoned up a traumatic memory of her infancy, she swooned at her sanguinary Victorian nightgown.

To her daughter's unexpected phone call, Angela startlingly woke up.

"You're a fake mother. Serves you right for losing your newborn," shouted the caller in woe.

"Fa…Far…!" had exclaimed Mrs. Aries before the phoner hang up.

"How could you say that, my hapless girl? You're a mother, too. Can't you feel me?" added Ange with rue.

To her panic, she wolfed down a mouthful of varied anti-psychotic drugs to doss down. So, to the Dream World, her soul flew to congregate with the six shades who pointed all their fingers at her while quavering with ire: "You're not a real mother". In the midst of this affray, a rough hand awoke her to rencounter Brice and Lune, who looked insincerely repentant.

"Are you ok?" wondered Brice.

"It sounds like she was having a nightmare," confirmed Lune.

"Get her a glass of fresh water, please!" requested Brice.

While hearing their murmurs, Ange enjoyed listening to an internal voice. They were some babyish sounds that sprang from the core of her heart to convey her a message. The voice continuously rang in her ears to make her believe that she never deserves to be a mother. At this point, she recalled the day of her childbirth labor. After she had been aroused by Lune's voice, she glimpsed Brice carrying her baby with his gory hands. Though her tongue could not speak, her eyes still could. Lune thence assured Angela that her newborn is in safe hands.

"You don't merit motherhood," the voice echoed to waken her to reality.

She ran around the room as she was closing her ears. Once Angela heard Brice saying: "My Ange! Please, stop!" her mind conjured up her husband and child alive to blame her for being the worst mother ever. Forsooth, she was hence hallucinating.

On a corner of her subfusc bedroom, Ange innocently ensconced herself to converse with her mind.

"It is assumed that our beloveds know more things than we do about ourselves. So, is it possible that they can all be right?" questioned Angela.

"I cannot deny this fact. But, you have to know that this reasoning is mostly related to one's virtues," replied the mind.

"Absolutely! None of them has ever looked at my reasons," reasoned she.

"Poor you! You aren't bad, my innocent lady. You're just unlucky," avowed her mind.

"Am I really a bad mother as everybody says?" asked Ange.

"Not at all! You were too good till everyone around you maliciously used you," answered the mind.

"I can remember now how much I was brainwashed back then. I swear that I love all my children. But, my former spouse and his wife horridly played with my mind to their avail. To have less pain, I was fully convinced that I owed these scammers my three pieces of my soul for my survival," recounted Angela.

When Ange was about to sign a peace treaty with her mind, a silhouette of a baby stemmed at the dead of night to spoil her delight.

"Are you still breathing, my love?" asked Angela with mirth.

"Mama, why did you let me die?" queried the silhouette, "How can you still allow these killers to be around you?"

"Are you still upset with me, my everything?" wanted Ange to know.

"How can I be everything to you while I am nothing, in fact, mama?" mocked her the silhouette.

"Shhhht! Don't say that again, please?" entreated Angela, "Look at you! You're still alive for I can see you. So, come on in and give your mama a hug!"

After the silhouette had evanesced, Ange broke down and cried out. She then scarred unwillingly her face. And she sometimes plucked out her hair while calling her baby out.

The next day, Angela decided to ramble around her house. She, in other words, wanted to have a breath of fresh air. As she unintentionally walked along the glasshouse, she found herself eavesdropping on some indoor screams for help. When Ange approached the door, she reminisced about her worst living nightmare. And once she sighted familiar splintered toys, her legs felt weighed down. She thence cracked up while smacking her afflicted face and meanwhile yelling: "I'm a sham mother".