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I Called The Police On My Mom after my dad died

I Called The Police On My Mom after my dad died I Am Terrified Of The Person My Mom Suddenly Became

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Hi, my name is Alex, and I would like to tell you a story about how my mom went from being one of the most important people in my life to being someone I grew to despise. And before you start jumping to conclusions, let me explain to you how this all happened.Growing up, it was just my mom and me for a very long time. My dad passed away when I was young, and it took a toll on us, but it also brought us closer. She even got a part-time job to make sure that I was okay. Even though I had no doubt in my mind that she loved me, our relationship escalated to a very toxic one later on.Looking back at it now, Life was good though my childhood, however, with time my mom became a different person. It started when My mom stopped working, she was getting old, and she wanted to rest more. I honestly thought it was for the best, I just wanted her to have an easy life going forward.However, after a while, my mother became despondent, and the things that she began to do worried me, the first red flag started to show itself when she thought no one was around. I would come down from my room late at night after cramming for an exam and find her in the living room talking to no one. The room was dark, and the phone was still on the receiver, but she would be having a full conversation as if someone was there responding to her. Whenever I would interrupt her and ask her who she’s talking to, she would ignore me, but the conversation that she was having would stop until I left again.Now, I’m not a medical professional, but this behavior of hers worried me, and I didn’t know what to do. I started to figure maybe she was lonely, or just having out loud thoughts, and perhaps I was thinking this way because I didn’t want to believe that something was wrong with her. The next major red flag came one morning when I woke up to the sound of alarms. I had another long night and was pretty out of it, so I wasn’t sure what was going on at first, but that all changed When the Smoke caught my attention. I jumped out of bed and rushed into the kitchen to find my mom standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot. I opened some doors and windows to let some ventilation in and then went over to see what she was cooking. To my complete surprise, there was nothing in either the pot or pan that was lit on the stove.“Mom,” I said, reaching slowly over to stop her hand from staring the empty pot, “what are you doing?” She was so focused on her task that she didn’t even seem to register me standing beside her until my hand made contact with her arm. The seconds that passed felt like an eternity, then her eyes gazed upon me with a disgust that I’ve never seen before. As she turned and left, I felt a tingle running down my spine before cleaning up the mess that she had made.I wish that would have been a moment that I made the right decision. Maybe if I did then the hatred that was Building inside of me would never have manifested. But, it wasn’t until the final red flag that I knew, if I didn’t do something soon, the results could be horrific.A little time went by since that incident in the kitchen. I was sitting at the dining room table, writing a paper for class when my mom stormed into the room. “How dare you!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, her hands balled into a tight Fists. “What’s going on?” I said, looking up into her furious eyes. “You think you’ll get away with it, but I won't allow it!” To this day, I don’tknow what she was referring to, but it didn’t matter, nor did it stop her. “Please, calm down.” I pleaded, my confusion sending a queasy feeling to my gut. But she didn’t stop, she didn’t even pause. “You’re worthless,” she screamed, “good for nothing”, “why did he have to die and not
you!”. Mo mother then grabbed a plate and threw it at me, luckily, I was able to move quickly, but I was beyond shocked, as I saw he leave the kitchen.I stood in my place, silently staring at the spot where she once stood. My eyes as big as saucers, mouth slightly open, and a pencil dangling from my hand before it fell to the floor. How could she say such a thing? Who would say such a thing to their child? This isn’t the woman who raised me, this isn’t my mother. This person couldn’t be a mother to anybody. These thoughts swam through my head, and I played back every moment and every red flag that led up to this moment.

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