Chapter 3My Mother Came Back… The Day I Identified the Dead

The next morning, the autumn sun filtered through the living room blinds.

A gentle clinking of pans came from the kitchen.

When I finished washing up and walked into the dining room, a fresh breakfast was already waiting on the table. Fluffy biscuits, warm oatmeal, and a small dish of fresh berries.

She stood there in her apron, placing a mug of coffee on the table.

Today, she had changed into a high-collared silk blouse with the cuffs buttoned tightly around her wrists. She had also sprayed a heavy amount of lavender perfume, trying desperately to mask that subtle, sweet smell of decay.

"Morning, Gwenny. Sit down and eat while it's hot."

She smiled warmly at me, her panic and shame from the night before carefully hidden away.

Yet her movements were still painfully mechanical. When she poured some milk, her wrist jerked like a rusty gear, nearly knocking the glass over.

"Mom, sit down and eat with me," I said, pulling out a chair.

"I already ate, sweetheart. Your job at the hospital takes a lot out of you, so make sure you finish it all."

She sat down beside me, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes never leaving me for a second.

Suddenly, my phone on the table began to vibrate violently.

The screen flashed with the name Detective Carter.

My heart dropped. I instinctively shot a glance at the woman sitting across from me. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a fleeting look of panic crossing her features before she quickly masked it.

I answered and put it on speakerphone.

"Dr. Brooks, I'm sorry to call you so early," Carter's voice echoed clearly in the quiet room. "But we have some strange developments regarding your mother's case."

My hand holding the fork froze. "Go ahead."

"The forensics team worked through the night to piece together the remains," Carter said, his tone turning incredibly grim. "We found out that the crash wasn't an accident."

"Before the tour bus went over the cliff, there were clear signs of a deliberate ramming and a violent struggle on the road."

"We recovered a discarded backpack in the brush halfway down the mountain. It contained your mother's ID and a small journal. The last few entries... they're very disturbing."

I raised my eyes to look at my mother. Her hands had clenched into tight fists, her knuckles a pale, lifeless gray from the sheer pressure.

"What did the journal say?" I asked.

"It said, 'That man isn't dead. The fire ten years ago didn't kill him. He found us. He saw Gwenny's social media check-in, and he's coming for her. I can't let him ruin her life. I have to stop him.'"

Carter's words felt like a physical blow to my chest.

That man.

Ten years ago, the abusive, alcoholic monster who had haunted our lives was declared dead, supposedly burned to ash in a warehouse fire.

"Dr. Brooks, the man mentioned in the journal might still be alive," Carter warned. "We suspect he engineered the crash. He is highly dangerous, so please lock your doors and stay vigilant. If you see anyone suspicious, call us immediately."

"I understand. Thank you, Detective."

I hung up. The apartment fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

I looked at my mother. She had her head bowed, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. Tears dripped onto the wooden table, leaving small, dark spots.

"Gwenny..."

She slowly looked up, her familiar face a mask of desperation and absolute terror.

"Don't be scared. Mom is here."

"Even if I have to tear myself apart, I won't let him touch a single hair on your head."