BITTER BLOOD

My earliest memory of peace is my mother’s voice.

She used to hum softly whenever we traveled old songs with no clear lyrics, just sound and warmth. That day on the train, she held me close, her arm wrapped around my shoulders the way she always did when she sensed my fear.

We were on our way home.

I didn’t know it would be the last journey of her life.

My mother had been quiet that morning, quieter than usual. Her face looked pale, and her smile felt forced. I asked if she was tired. She nodded and kissed my forehead.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

But she wasn’t.

She rested her head against the window as the train moved, the rhythm of the tracks rocking us gently. I leaned against her chest, listening to her breathing, comforted by the familiar rise and fall.

Then… it stopped.

The Moment Everything Broke

At first, I thought she was asleep.

“Mama,” I whispered. No response.

I shook her gently. “Mama, I’m hungry.”

Nothing.

I tried again, louder this time. “Mama, wake up.”

Her body was too still.

Her hand once warm felt cold in mine.

Fear crept into my chest like ice.

I cried, pressing my face into her shoulder, begging her to wake up. I didn’t understand. How could she sleep so deeply? Why wouldn’t she answer me?

People around us began to stare.

A paramedic pushed through the aisle. He checked her pulse, then her eyes, then slowly looked at me with a face I will never forget.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Those words didn’t make sense.

“She’s asleep,” I insisted. “Please wake her up.”

But they didn’t.

They couldn’t.

“She has passed,” the paramedic said.

The world shattered.

“MOTHER!” I screamed.

My body trembled violently. I clung to her chest, sobbing, begging her to breathe, to move, to prove them wrong.

The train didn’t stop.

Life didn’t stop.

But mine did.

Abandoned Among Strangers

People slowly returned to their seats.

No one stayed.

No one knew what to do with a child holding a dead mother.

I was alone.

I tried calling my father using my mother’s phone. The call wouldn’t go through. Again and again, I dialed, my hands shaking, my eyes swollen with tears.

Nothing.

I cried until my throat burned.

I stayed there, holding her, whispering to her, begging her not to leave me.

Her body stayed still.

The Secret That Killed Her

My mother’s sister Tanya was not on the train.

She was with my father.

She had always wanted him.

Even as a child, I could see it. The way she looked at him. The way she spoke badly about my mother when she thought no one was listening.

One afternoon, days before the journey, I saw something I didn’t understand at the time.

My mother was cooking.

Tanya stood behind her and poured a strange substance into the pot.

“What’s that?” I asked.

She smiled. “Spice.”

But my mother didn’t eat the food that day. She said she felt full.

Tanya didn’t stop.

She kept trying.

Truth Comes Late, But It Comes

My mother’s death was ruled sudden.

But grief sharpened my memory.

I told my father everything I saw.

At first, he refused to believe it.

Tanya cried. She lied. She played the victim.

But poison leaves traces.

Investigations don’t sleep.

The truth came out slowly then all at once.

She was arrested.

My father broke down.

He had almost married her.

Ending: What She Couldn’t Steal

My mother was buried with dignity.

Justice followed.

Tanya lost everything she tried to steal.

And me?

I grew up.

I learned that evil sometimes wears familiar faces.

I learned that silence can kill.

And I learned that love real love never poisons.

My mother never woke up.

But her truth did.

And it saved me.