I freeze dead in my tracks.
Who is in the apartment with me, because it's clearly not my mom? I hold my key tightly in my hand preparing to use it as a weapon if necessary as I turn the corner.
I see a woman not much older than my mother cooking in the kitchen. Her black hair is wrapped a tight bun behind her head. She's smaller than me. Smaller than my now missing mother.
She's holding a bowl in one arm and a spoon in the other. I clear my throat and her Muddy brown eyes fix on me.
She blushes, "Oh, I'm sorry for the mess but I figured I'd make pancakes and we'd have an early breakfast." She smiles cheerily at me.
I'm shocked, "Excuse me, but who are you and why are you in my mom's apartment?"
My voice shakes as I attempt to hide my anger.
Her smile drops and she frowns. "Oh dear, I'm sorry if I upset you. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Margaret."
I roll my eyes, "That's all very nice but you didn't answer my question, why are you in my mom's apartment?
Margaret raises her eyebrow at me.
You'd better answer me now before I call the police for breaking and entering." I threaten.
She smiles, "Why wouldn't I be here, I'm your mother aren't I?
Sirens go off in my head. Who does this woman think she is? I have a million questions but I ask the most important one.
My stomach twists and my blood boils, "You are not my mother, my mother gave birth to me, she raised me on her own. Where is my actual mother?" My fists clench.
She pours some of the batter in the pan before looking up at me.
"You mean Grace? Oh, don't worry darling, she won't be bothering us anymore, I've taken care of her."
Her smile goes from sweet to sinister and her eyes follow.
Taken care of her? My heart leaps into my throat, and I look around. Desperately searching for something I can use against her. On the side table in the living room I see a picture of a little girl with black hair and blue eyes smiling. It looks like a school photo. She looked young, maybe thirteen? I walk over to and examine it. Carrying it back to the kitchen I hold it up to show Margaret.
"Who's this?" I ask her.
She smiles sweetly, "That's my other daughter Stephanie, isn't she beautiful?"
On the spot I set a plan into motion.
I laugh to myself, "She is very beautiful, and it'd be a shame if something was to happen to her. Wouldn't it?"
I glare at her, my trap has been set.
Margaret stares at me puzzled, "What do you mean?"
I run my fingers lightly over the smooth glass frame. "Well, I do know people..."
With that, I hold the fame above my head and allow it to fall through my fingers. It hits the tile floors and smashes into a thousand shards of glass. Margaret jumps and her face is taken over by sheer terror.
I'm not proud of what I've done and I have no intention of harming Stephanie, or anyone for that matter, but I need to find my mother.
Margaret's voice goes quiet "That isn't necessary Angela, your mother has lied to you, I'm your real mom. She took you from the hospital when you were a child. I've been looking for you ever since. Stephanie and I have been waiting to meet you your whole life. I can assure you this is the truth. Your Uncle got in contact with you, didn't he?"
The text message from yesterday is beginning to make sense now.
She pauses to turn off the stove. "Some friends of mine have taken care of Grace for you."
I don't believe a word of it. I bend down and pick up the picture of Stephanie before I walk over to Margaret. My shoes crunching the remaining glass on my way over to her. I grab the back of her shirt and slam her against the fridge. She gasps and drops the bowl of batter on the floor.
The anger and fear in my voice is overwhelming. "I don't like this game you're playing Margaret and I'd really like to know what you've done with my real mother, Grace. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice."
I hold up the now scratched picture of Stephanie for her to see. Margaret is silent, her eyes wide.
I hold the picture closer to her face, "I'm going to ask you one last time and I'd better get the right answer. Where is she?"
