Good Bad Girl by Alice Feeney EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Alice Feeney
- Language: English
- Genre: Kidnapping Thrillers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Mother’s Day
People say there’s nothing like a mother’s love. Take that away, you’ll find
there’s nothing like a daughter’s hate. I told myself things would be
different when I became a mum. I was determined not to make the same
mistakes as my mother, and I believed that my child would always be
loved. That’s what I promised my daughter the day she was born.
But I have. Made mistakes. Bad ones.
And I have broken my promise more than once.
I feel drunk from tiredness. My mind is a mess and my thoughts feel
slow, jumbled, clouded by the fog of exhaustion. But she needs things and
she needs me to get them for her. Doing, finding, being what she needs
became my occupation the day she was born. A job I thought I wanted and
now can’t quit. Being a mother is a curious mix of love, hate, and guilt. I
worry I am the only person who has ever felt this way, and despise myself
for thinking unthinkable thoughts.
I wish my daughter would disappear.
I push the buggy along the high street, hoping to get inside the
supermarket before the rain comes, when an elderly woman blocks my path.
“Isn’t she adorable,” she says, staring at the sleeping child before
beaming back at me.
I hesitate, searching my befuddled brain for the correct response. “Yes.”
“How old?”
“Six months.”
“She’s beautiful.”
She’s a nightmare.
“Thank you,” I say. I tell my face to smile but it doesn’t listen.
Please don’t wake her.
That is all I ever think. Because if someone or something wakes her she
will start to cry again. And if she cries again, I will cry again. Or do
something worse.
Inside the supermarket I hurry to get the things I need: baby formula,
nappies, coffee. Then I see a familiar face—an old colleague—and for a
moment I forget how tired I am all day, every day. I listen to the childless
friend who has become a stranger talk about their life, which sounds
significantly more interesting than mine. I live alone and I miss having
conversations with adults. We chat for a while. I mostly listen, as I don’t
have much to say—every day is exactly the same as the day before for me
now. And while I listen, I forget that I no longer have any dreams or
ambitions or a life of my own. My daughter became my world, my purpose,
my everything the day she was born.
I sometimes wish she hadn’t been.
I know I must never share these thoughts or speak them out loud. Instead
I pretend to be okay, pretend to be happy, pretend to know what I am doing.
I’m good at pretending but it is exhausting. Like everything else in my life.
Like her.
The conversation lasts less than three minutes.
My back is turned less than two.
One minute later my world ends.
The buggy is empty.
Time stops. The supermarket is suddenly silent, as though someone has
turned down the volume.
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