My mother and my husband are the same people, and I swear it’s not some kind of sick joke.
Let’s start at the beginning. I was born in the ’90s in the city of Harwich. Since I was a kid, I remember my mother being a rather rude person, she could be angered easily, she was hot-tempered, and overall a really controlling person. She used to beat me when my dad wasn’t home. I hated her.
When I was around 12, my father sat down to speak with me.
“Your mother is strange, you know,” he said. “When I met her, she was a completely different person. But it all changed when you were two. I don’t know what happened that day, but she came back from work and was a completely different person. Before that day, she was a kind, calm and loving person, but now - well, you know her.”
“I thought she was always like this,” I responded.
“Well, yeah, she wasn’t. I didn’t divorce her, I didn’t want to leave you here with her. I even asked her parents if she had some mental condition before, but she was as healthy as ever.”
“So you don’t know what had changed her…”
“Exactly.”
“I mean, we can leave. If you want to divorce her, I would come with you.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he looked at me with sad eyes.
“I do.”
We agreed. He told me to wait for a few days until he finds an apartment for us, then we’ll move there, and only then he would divorce my mother. It was a good plan. It was so hard to believe it. I could finally leave behind my controlling mom. I knew she never loved me. I couldn’t wait for the day to come.
One day, however, I came home from school. I saw my mother talking with a police officer. I thought something was wrong. A few minutes later, the officer left the house. I asked my mom what had happened.
“Your stupid father committed suicide this morning,” she answered casually. “What a fucking idiot he was…”
I can’t even describe how I felt at that moment. My father, our plans to finally leave this house, everything, was gone. I knew the truth. I knew it wasn’t a suicide. He would never do this, especially now. She killed him. That fucking bitch I called my mother. She killed him.
“You killed him,” I screamed at her. I hated her. I wanted to kill her right there and to be honest, I have no idea why I didn’t do it.
“What?” she looked back at me. “Don’t dare to say this again!”
“You killed him, you fucking bastard!”
It was obvious what happened next. She beat me up, of course, and I wasn’t allowed to speak about my father ever again. She didn’t even let me go to his funeral. I knew I had to leave that house as soon as I could.
Years went by. More than 10 years. I was in university, but I was still living with her. Every time I had a small opportunity to leave the house and my previous life behind, my mother did something to keep me there.
Despite her best efforts, I managed to know a guy called Mark at university. I managed to keep his existence a secret. Two years later, I already had a wedding planned with Mark. Of course, my mother wanted to kill him and me too when I told her the news that I’m getting married, and at the same time, I’m finally leaving her behind. She was furious.
Luckily, I told her at the last possible minute, when I was packing my thing to leave the house and move into Mark’s house.
“You’re not my daughter anymore,” she screamed. “You’ll regret this!”
“I don’t care. And please, don’t come to our wedding. You’re not invited.” I said, then left the house. I still heard her screaming after me.
“You’re stupid if you think you can escape from me, idiot! You’re just like your father!”
I can’t describe how happy I was. After all those years, I could finally leave her behind. The wedding was perfect, but after a few days, everything changed instantly. A few days after the wedding, Mark was totally different than before. He became aggressive and hot-tempered. I thought maybe he had a bad day, but he continued to be like this for a week. He was just like my mother…
During these days, a police officer named Gregor wanted to talk with me. He said my mother went missing a week before. I told them what I knew, which was only a bit more than nothing. Everything was so strange.
So, a week after Mark “changed”, I finally decided to talk about this with him. I just couldn’t continue to stay with him the way he was. I wanted to live with the Mark I had known for two years, not the Mark he was since our wedding.
“Honey, we need to talk,” I told him.
“About what?” he asked.
“Since our wedding, you’ve changed. You became a completely different person. I don’t like this…”
“What are you talking about?” he laughed. “I’m exactly the same person I was hundreds of years ago.”
“It’s not a joke, Mark. I’m serious.”
“So am I. I told you, darling, you’re stupid if you think you can escape from me.”
My heart froze as I heard this sentence. I screamed, then ran out of the house. I called a friend of mine, Sarah. She let me stay with her for a while. I told her everything. She was just as confused as I was. I still don’t believe this. How is this even possible? I know my mother will find me. Or Mark, depends on whose body the thing is using. Maybe Sarah will change too. It’s not my mother who’s hunting for me. It’s something much worse, and it pretended to be my mother for decades. I don’t know what to do.