With all of my heart I loved her. In the beginning of my heart she was found, and she still is. She was always there for me, and she still is but now spiritually. Even though my mother was significant to me, I kinda had the courage to send her to her ancestors. I am responsible for my mother’s death, I killed my mother.

I remember very well that it was a Sunday afternoon when my mother died. I was sitting on my favourite couch in the house reading a novel and my mother was busy with her work stuff. I wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing because I was in one of the best chapters of the book so my eyes were glued to the book.

Her phone rang and I thought she was going to pick up but no she didn’t. It kept ringing until I was annoyed.

“Can you please switch it off if you are not going to answer it?” I said.

She didn’t respond. I put the book down and looked at her. I noticed that she was staring at space. That’s when I knew that her mental problems were back.

When her mental problems came back hell broke loose. She became angry, beat everything and everyone and became powerful. She became scary and only Dad could calm her down. But Dad was away on a business trip that day so I was left with a lion in the house.

“Mom, are you okay?” I asked with a fearful voice.

She didn’t respond. She took her laptop and looked at it as if it was something disgusting. It didn’t even stay long in her hands; she threw it down as if she was beating something. That was not the only thing because the coffee table, glasses, television, furniture and other things in the lounge were victim that day. I was busy hiding in the house because the door was locked and she had the keys in her pockets.

“Please Mom! Stop it! Stop!” I kept yelling “Stop!”

Every time I asked her to stop was like putting paraffin on the fire. “Stop now, please.” I begged again.

“What?!” she asked as she was looking me with an anger eye.

My heart skipped a beat when she took her bag, the one that used to have a gun in it. She took out a gun.

“I really can’t, really can’t live with animals in the house. I CAN’T!” she said with a very loud voice. She was now pointing the gun at me and my arms were already up, as if they are being pulled by the roof.

“Please Mom, please don’t do this.” I said with a sadly, begging her.

“I can’t live with animals here,” she came towards me and I was taking a few steps back.

When she moved faster I was also faster. But by God’s miracles, she just fell. She fell and I looked down and saw that the gun was away from her. I quickly jumped at the gun and held it. I pointed at her as she stood up demanding her gun.

“Give it here!”

“One step forward and you’ll regret it,” I warned but she didn’t seem scared. She just came closer with a powerful looking body full of confidence.

She jumped at me because she wanted the gun back. I was too nervous to think carefully and I don’t know how but I heard a gunshot. That’s when I knew that I had pulled the trigger. I saw her slowly falling. At that moment I felt like I was dreaming; in fact I was experiencing a nightmare. As I watched her down, covered by so much blood, the gun fell down and tears flowed on my cheeks.

Before I could do anything, I heard a knock.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s me, why did you lock?” It was Dad, he was back. I quickly took the keys from my mom’s pocket and opened the door. I went straight to his shoulders and he asked if I was OK.

“It’s Mom,” I said as I pointed to her.

He ran to her and found that she was gone.

That’s when I cried because I killed her. I killed my mother. I had the chance to do something else but I chose to kill her. Although it was self-defence, I think I should’ve been the dead one. I can never take the fact that I killed her off my mind. I cannot take it out of my mind. In my thoughts, every day, I always remind myself that I pulled the trigger.


Tell us what you think: Do you think the narrator should feel guilty for pulling the trigger? What would you have done?