AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door and her mother's voice calling out to her. "Emma, honey, can I come in?"
Emma's heart raced as she scrambled to her feet, dusting off her hands and looking around the room one last time. Everything looked perfect. Nothing was out of place; nothing was untidy. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the door and replied, "Of course, Mom. Come in."
Her mother opened the door and stepped inside, looking around with a critical eye. Emma held her breath, waiting for her mother's approval.
"Well done, honey," her mother said, nodding. "You've really outdone yourself this time. Everything looks so clean and tidy."
Emma breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing. She had done it. She had made her mother proud.
But her relief was short-lived. As her mother continued to inspect the room, she frowned and turned to face Emma. "What's this?" she asked, pointing at a small lock of hair on the floor.
Emma's heart sank as she saw the imperfection. She had missed it in her cleaning frenzy.
"I-I'm sorry, Mom," she stammered. "I must have missed it. I can fix it right away."
Her mother shook her head, disappointment etched across her face. "No, Emma, this isn't good enough. You need to be more thorough. You can't let something like this slip through the cracks. It's unacceptable."
Emma felt a knot form in her stomach. She had tried her best. She had done everything she could. But it was never enough for her mother.
"I'll do better, Mom," Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."
Her mother sighed and placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. "I know you will, honey. You're a good girl, but you need to understand that, in this family, we strive for excellence. We don't settle for anything less."
Emma nodded, and without noticing it, she started to bite her nails.
"What are you doing?" her mother exclaimed with a shriek.
Emma looked down at her hands and saw that her fingers were in her mouth again, her teeth gnawing away at her nails. She felt a hot flush spread across her cheeks as she hurriedly pulled her fingers out of her mouth and hid her hands behind her back.
"I-I'm sorry, Mom. I don't know why I keep doing that. I'll stop; I promise."
Her mother's eyes narrowed. "You know better, Emma. That's a disgusting habit."
Emma's face flushed with embarrassment. She knew her mother was right—biting her nails was a bad habit. She had tried many times to stop, but it seemed like the more she tried to resist, the more she craved it.
Her mother sighed and shook her head.
"Come here," she said in a stern voice. Emma hesitated, but the look in her mother's eyes made her do as she was told. She followed her into the kitchen and watched her mother open a drawer and remove a needle.
"What are you doing, Mom?" Emma asked nervously, backing away from the needle in her mother's hand.
Her mother ignored the question and grabbed Emma's fingers, pushing them out straight in front of her. Then she proceeded to poke the needle underneath each and every nail until they all bled.
"This is your punishment," she said firmly as she finished. "If you ever bite your nails again, I will do it again. In a week, I will check your nails; if you have been biting them, it will happen again."
Emma felt tears pricking at her eyes as she looked down at her bloody fingertips. She had never felt so embarrassed or ashamed in all her life. She started to cry helplessly, hoping to wake her mother's love and care and for her to see how crushed she was. But her mother just turned her back on her. Emma's mother walked into the kitchen and started preparing dinner, humming softly to herself. Emma followed her into the room and stood silently on the other side of the counter as she watched her mother work. She wiped her tears away, thinking this was no time to feel sorry for herself. She had failed her mother again. She knew she needed to try harder. She had to be more perfect. She simply had to.
Chapter20
Icould see the flashing lights of police cars reflecting off the yellow walls of the storage units. The area was blocked off with yellow tape, and police cars were scattered throughout the lot. As soon as I stepped out of my car, the stench hit me like a wall. I gagged and covered my nose and mouth with my shirt, trying to control my breathing. An officer flagged me down and asked for my identification before leading me toward the unit where the body was found.
I stepped closer, and the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. It was the stench of death intermingled with an odd, acrid smell. The police officers blocking off the area looked up at me as I approached, their expressions grim.
"It was in a barrel," one of them said, gesturing toward the body. "Filled with formaldehyde. Someone went to a lot of trouble to keep it preserved."
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as I imagined the killer carefully placing the body in the barrel, sealing it shut, and adding the formaldehyde to keep it from decaying.
"But something must have gone wrong," I continued. "Something tipped the barrel over?"
