I don’t know if time and circumstances hardened her, or she had an inborn animosity towards me.
Her sarcasm never failed to sting. Toxicity could have been her second name.
I was driven to past life regressions to check if there’s a story from the past, which made her hate me so much. If there was any maternal instinct in her, she’d had it sliced away.
Leaving a scar did not unnerve her, as she remained busy flaunting her own scars. I scanned literature on the mother wound, and sought solace in the statement that I’m not responsible for another’s misery. We are souls at different stages of evolution, and need to go through a required number of life cycles.
I feel relieved after her exit from this world. I don’t feel guilty about it. There are many who’d like me to do so.
Written for Prosery Prompt at dVerse
“she’d had it sliced away leaving a scar”.