Letter to my mommy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: December 08, 2016

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Submitted: December 08, 2016

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'LETTER TO MY MOMMY' She sat down on her bed. Her head felt light. She pushed the drugs aside, picked up the pen and paper and placed it on her lap. Then she started.

" I hope London was fine. I hope the weather was okay. I hope you had a safe flight back home. That'd be true, as long as you are reading this. I hope you kissed Etim at the airport. I'm hoping because I just want you to know that I held on to this hope before I decided to do this, before I decided to let it all go. I hope it helps.

"Okay mum, all I want to tell you is....I can't even remember. But I do remember when I thought you were the best mum in the whole world. How you always did everything for me when my daddy was alive. I was 14 when he passed on. I loved him. I still love him."

"But now you go around the world. I haven't seen you in the last two months. You are on vacation in London. Funny thing is you don't even work and you are taking vacation. You call and say the same words- 'how are you?' 'how is school?' and the next second you hang up. I want to say more even though my ego is bigger than my head. I have a lot to say to you. Since it's not possible, I'm writing it."

"I hope you know that you left me alone in this big house. You left me with your deadbeat husband. You left me with Etim. I told you he came to my room last year. He placed his hand on my shoulders. You said he was only trying to be a good father. You didn't even say step-father. He failed both. I told you he called my room old-fashioned. You used your lips, those red lipstick always on it to kill me. .... I hate you mom."

"I just wanted you to know that I am 4 months pregnant. But it would soon be gone. I love the child but I can't care for it here. That bastard Etim did it. Etim, your husband. Etim the bastard you forced on me to be my father. I thought you knew no one could take my father's place. But he tried, with a knife to my throat for 2 years, he tried. You might not believe me. He might prevent you from reading this. He might even kill you. But the truth is, I don't care."

" But I do have one final request - don't smear me with your British perfume. I don't want to be smelling British in the Pearly gates. And don't worry about the drugs, I bought them with the money I found in your wardrobe."

"I hate you mom. I don't regret anything. Your daughter S.P I pray you don't remember what SP means. "Bye mom....I'll miss you, but I would see dad." "Bye".


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