The mother, the murderer

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My mother had always been there for me. One night I was reading on my kindle when she knocked on my door. It was the middle of the night, but I said, "come in." She walked up to me with tears in her eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry." Suddenly a knife was in my chest. I felt as if I couldn't breathe, my lungs stopped working. I tried to speak, but blood came out and I spat it on her designer jeans. She began sobbing as a man came behind her and handed her a million dollar check.

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