He didn’t scream. He didn’t hesitate.
He dragged his mother out of the kitchen, demanding she pack her bags. But the nightmare didn’t end there.
Two weeks later, the baby arrived. He thought the birth would finally bring peace, but tonight, the true horror was unleashed.
Hearing a blood-curdling shriek, he sprinted into the dimly lit nursery.
His mother—clad in a stark black top—had Anna forcefully bent over the white crib. Her fist was twisted violently in Anna’s long, black hair.
“Answer!” his mother shouted in a vicious, commanding tone.
“You’ll answer for this!” Anna sobbed, a desperate, tear-soaked plea echoing through the cold room.
Rage blinded him. In his black sweater and blue jeans, he charged forward. His eyes were bloodshot, teeth bared like a wild animal. He grabbed his mother’s arms, ripping her away from his wife with raw, brutal force.
With a violent shove, he hurled his mother backward. She slammed hard against the towering wooden wardrobe, stumbling as she hit the dark wood floors.
Anna clung to the crib’s rails in her cream sleep-robe, sobbing hysterically in agonizing pain.
He instantly dropped back to Anna’s side, wrapping his left arm protectively around her trembling shoulders.
“Stay away from her!” he thundered, glaring furiously at his mother.
The room fell dead silent, save for Anna’s breathless cries.
But his mother didn’t cower. Slowly, she leaned against the wardrobe, catching her breath—and smiled. A chilling, triumphant grin.
“You blind fool,” she wheezed, pointing a shaking finger directly at the crib. “I wasn’t attacking her. I was forcing her to confess.”
He froze.
In his arms, Anna’s hysterical tears instantly vanished. Her face went dead, cold, and totally emotionless.
“Ask your perfect wife,” his mother whispered, “whose baby she actually brought home… because yours died three weeks ago.”