I’ve decided to engage in writing prompts and discovered numerous inspiring ones on the Reedsy website. This short story is based on the prompt: "A character’s life of deceit unravels as their past catches up with their present. What are the consequences?"
https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/anna-rajmon/
Furious, hurt, and intoxicated by anger, she burst into the room. Without thinking, her gaze locked onto the woman standing by the window. “Why did you do it?” she said in an accusatory tone, glaring furiously at her mother. Her eyes were filled with rage and hatred, all of that anger just radiating from her. “You’re a selfish, disgusting witch! I wish I’d never been born.” So much hatred in such a tiny being, consumed by the need for answers. There is so much hate, driven by love. She didn’t know what it was like to love so deeply it hurt. To love so much that you would sacrifice your life. That you would be willing to die so that the other could live.
The woman turned away from the window, looking at the girl in amazement, each of her words cutting deeper than a thousand blades. With every passing moment, she was hurt even more, and her soul was bleeding. She had done it all for her; none of it had been selfish. She wanted nothing more than for the girl to understand that. She didn’t need to be able to read minds to know what this was about. Her past had been uncovered, and she had dreaded this day, knowing it was inevitable. She had prepared herself for this moment so many times in her mind, so why couldn’t she handle it? Why did her heart ache so much as she stood here, face to face with her old demons? She had stood in this place many times before, battling the darkness of her past. But this time, it was real. This time, there was no escaping it.
She stood there, unable to react, silently suffering. Tears flowed down her face, and all she wanted was to do it all differently. She could see the pain she had caused, and the shame threatened to swallow her whole. How could she have hurt the one thing she treasured the most? One day, all secrets return like ghosts in the night, taking a piece of our present and future with them.
The mother took a deep breath, knowing the moment of truth had come. “I lied to you, yes. And you may never forgive me for it, but I had no choice,” she said, her voice trembling. “I believed it was the only way to protect you. What I did… it wasn’t out of selfish desire, it was out of necessity. I had so few options…”
The mother slowly moved closer to her daughter, as if every step was torn between the desire to embrace her and the realisation that it might already be too late. Her body was weighed down by the past, but her heart was heavier still. Every tear-soaked into the floor, but not one of them could wash away the pain she had caused.
“If only I could explain it to you,” she whispered at last, her voice breaking, “if only you knew how hard I tried… how much I wanted to give you everything I never had.” But the daughter stayed silent, her eyes cold as winter winds, piercing her mother’s soul. She knew words couldn’t fix this.
“I made mistakes I’ll never be able to undo. I know that. But please… please, remember that even though I failed, I loved you. I still love you.” The mother collapsed onto her knees, her body trembling with sobs. But the daughter remained motionless.
She stood there for a while, staring at the desperate woman before her, unsure of what she felt. She wanted to run, but something kept her rooted to the spot. Finally, she broke the silence, the words coming slowly, as if each one was a knife’s edge: “Love isn’t enough. Not anymore.”
The daughter turned away, unable to bear the sight of her mother crumbling on the floor. Her own body was tense, as if ready for a fight, but there was no one left to fight. Except for the memories. Always those cursed memories returning like nightmares. With every step that took her farther from the woman who had raised her, her heart screamed, but her throat was closed, and not a single tear came.
She felt the anger building inside her – not just towards her mother, but towards herself. Why was she even here? Why had she allowed this situation to unfold? She had known what was coming. It was always the same: tears, words about love, regret. And then silence again. No real explanation. No answers that made sense.
But this time… This time, it was different. Something was breaking inside her. With each step away from the woman who had raised her, her anger shifted into something else. It was exhaustion. It was emptiness.
She stopped by the door, her hand trembling as it reached for the handle. “You don’t even know what you took from me,” she whispered into the void. “You’ll never understand.”
The mother remained on the floor, clutching her chest as though the pain was tearing her apart from the inside. She felt as though she was losing her last shred of hope. The memories of times they had shared, of when she had tried her best, collided with the reality that everything she had done had been destroyed.
She wanted to scream, to call out to her daughter, but she had no strength left, and all those years of lies and denial had come back to take everything she had ever loved. “If only I could change it,” she whispered into the empty room, knowing it was already too late.
The daughter’s internal battle continued as she stood by the door. Anger and exhaustion crushed her, but something inside her still rebelled. “Maybe it’s time to stop running,” flashed through her mind. But that thought felt too distant, too unimaginable. Not now.
She gripped the handle, and in that moment, she realised that perhaps she would never truly leave her behind. Perhaps she would never lose her because the wounds they had inflicted on each other had become part of their very souls.
The daughter stood with her hand on the door handle, her eyes staring into the void. She pressed her lips together as if trying to hold back the words that wanted to break free but remained trapped inside. She felt the silence closing in on her. That empty, meaningless silence that comes when all words have failed.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door. But before she could leave, she heard a faint whisper behind her. Her mother’s voice, weary and barely audible, pierced the silence. “I don’t want to lose you. Not anymore.”
Her heart clenched. Was it even possible? Could she ever find her way back to the woman who had once meant the world to her? Or would she always remain trapped between anger and a desperate longing for a love she had never truly had?
She stood frozen mid-motion, unable to turn back. The words that could change everything were so close, yet so far away. The daughter stood there like a statue. Her eyes watching her mother, who clung desperately to any hope of reconciliation. The anger inside the daughter slowly subsided, but it didn’t disappear. She stood there, wondering what she really felt. Did she even have the strength to forgive?
“Maybe…” she whispered, “maybe one day I’ll understand. But now… now I can’t.” It wasn’t forgiveness, nor was it the end, but it was a decision. She turned, opened the door, and this time, she walked out differently than before.
The daughter left the room, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface like an unquenchable fire. She took the stairs two at a time, until she found herself outside, where the air was heavy and damp. The darkness of the night surrounded her, but there was no relief in it. All she felt was emptiness.
She began walking, not knowing where to go, but finding solace in the movement. Her steps were quiet, like the whisper of old memories that haunted her. “Why did all of this happen?” she asked herself over and over, but no answer came.
Eventually, she stopped at an old park where she had played as a child before the world had lost its meaning. She sat down on a bench, closed her eyes, and for a moment let herself be consumed by the silence. Her mother’s words still echoed in her head. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Maybe she already has,” she thought, but there was no sense of victory in her. All those years of trying to escape, yet even now, as she walked away, she knew she would never truly leave her mother. Because deep down, even though she hated her, she still desperately craved her love.
Yesterday, her world had shattered into pieces. A truth she had never expected hit her like a blow from nowhere, and she couldn’t process it. She had thought she knew her, thought they trusted each other. She had always looked up to the woman with admiration but suddenly found herself in a situation where she was judging her. Her mother – the one who was supposed to protect her – was not who she seemed to be. While she was just a child, it turned out her mother was selling her body to survive. She did it for a short while and never returned to it again. Since then, she worked hard and built everything they had, but despite that, this revelation tore her heart to pieces.
She replayed her mother’s words in her mind: “I did it for you.” How could she even say that? Was it somehow her fault, her responsibility, that her mother had sunk so low? Those words hung in the air, and she had no idea how to respond to them. Her mother had tried to stay afloat as her world crumbled, but at what cost? The cost of her soul?
It wasn’t the first time she had felt rejected. All those years, she had sensed that they lived in a secret, and now she finally understood why. It made sense now, and everything fit together like a puzzle. On one hand, she admired the strength of the woman who had been willing to sell her soul for someone she loved so deeply. On the other hand, she felt anger, resentment, that her mother had never told her and never mentioned it. Didn’t she trust her? Or was she so ashamed that the very thought of speaking the words would cause her to sink into the ground in shame?
She felt awful, tears streaming down her face, as memories of her childhood played out in front of her. She knew her mother had done everything to provide her with a life. Yet the emptiness remained in the daughter’s heart. That woman had been willing to sacrifice everything she had to protect her child, but the price had been far too high.
It had cost her everything. It had taken from her the most precious thing she had — the relationship they both cherished so deeply, even just yesterday.
The broken girl sat on the bench for long minutes, her only companions her thoughts and unrelenting pain. Reflecting on how everything had fallen apart, she let the tears flow down her cheeks.
“For me?” she repeated in her mind, as if searching for meaning in those two simple words. Memories of her childhood began to overwhelm her. She recalled moments when, as a child, she felt lost, seeking her mother’s embrace, only to find emptiness. Where there should have been love, there was something colder, something she had never been able to understand. And now, knowing the truth, the gap in her life felt even larger.
Her mother had been trying to survive. But why? For whom? It wasn’t her who had asked for it. It wasn’t her who had wanted her mother to make such a sacrifice. “Sacrifice,” she repeated the word silently and felt something tighten in her chest. This wasn’t a sacrifice. This was a choice that had cost them their love.
Small fragments of what she hadn’t understood before began to fall into place. Why her mother was often absent, why she always had secrets, why she kept her distance. All the unspoken questions now had answers she had never expected. And with each answer came another feeling of betrayal. Not only had her mother never told her – she had never even given her the chance to understand.
As she sat in the park, her internal world crumbled. Deep down, she knew that the woman had done what she could, but now she felt the weight of it all pressing on her. All the suffering her mother had carried for so long was now being passed onto her shoulders. It was an angry love, a love that had been burdened and betrayed. And so, she sat there, motionless, as she wrestled with the meaning of love and what it meant to be betrayed.
“You wanted to protect me,” she whispered into the silence, but it wasn’t forgiveness. Rather, it was a statement, an attempt to find meaning in a world that had lost its foundations. But there was no meaning—only pain.
With a sudden movement, she rose from the bench, tears still streaming down her face. She took a deep breath, feeling the need to take the next step. She knew she had to deal with it, even if she didn’t know how. She turned back towards the house. She hesitated, unsure whether to return, but she still loved her so deeply. The thought of her mother being there alone, wounded, her heart bleeding, pained her.
She began slowly walking back, each step heavy, as if every memory was pulling her back. But still, she walked. She knew her mother was still waiting, that she would be waiting for her forgiveness. But the question remained – could she ever forgive her? Could she ever understand that sometimes love comes with sacrifices that no one wants to see? That maybe, in her mother’s eyes, she had been too small, too young to be entrusted with such a secret.
Each step towards home brought her closer to a harsh reality. The woman she had once considered her everything was now someone she barely knew. How could they start again after years of secrets and lies?
When she reached the house, she took a deep breath and paused at the door. She knew she would have to go in; she would have to face the woman who had raised her. But she wasn’t sure if she had the strength. Finally, with a deep breath, she let her heart take over and slowly stepped into the room.
Her mother was still in the same place, her eyes empty, as if she herself was contemplating everything she had lost. When she heard the door, she lifted her head but didn’t say a word. Both of them knew the words would come eventually, but only when the time was right.
-Anna Rajmon
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