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Unfiltered Story #32855

Unfiltered | October 4, 2017

My mother homeschooled me from kindergarten through the end of sixth grade, but she became very ill and I had to go to public school in seventh grade. She died a couple of weeks into the school year. I was unused to being around children my own age, and had very poor social skills. About a month after she died, it was Friday the 13th and a classmate kept telling me off for stepping on cracks because it would kill my mother. Eventually, he straight up asked me if I knew how many times I’d killed my mother that day. Looking back, I really wish I’d had the guts to tell him that I couldn’t kill her because she was already dead. I would have loved to have seen the look on his face.

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