Forlot: The Mom Who Lives Next Door - Book Twelve

Chapter Forty-Four

The baby girl curled into a ball and kicked with those tiny feet of hers. She proclaimed, "No!"

Our mother - at least, that is what we thought - sighed and set her suitcase on the hard and shiny floor. A tear ran down her cheek, and she wiped it with a finger.

"I am afraid so, darling. I am not your mother, mom, or mama. But regardless of that, I still love you two like my very own children and would not want anything horrible to happen to you."

"Oh, yeah?" Kira said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then where were you going to take them? To a private part of the airport where there are no witnesses to see you stabbing a young boy and innocent baby to death?"

"Kira! Just...just shut up," I ordered her. "This is between me and my real mom. You and Dad have nothing to do with this!"

"J-Jackson?" Mom stammered.

I focused my attention back on her and examined her closely. Her face...seemed terrified. Her eyes were filled with fear, and her teeth were chattering.

Was she cold? Or was she hiding something from me?

For the first time in my life, I did not believe my mom. I knew her as well as the Lubriem knows about fictional characters and came up with a logical explanation as to why she claimed that she was not my mother.

Mom had not always been one to stick up for herself. She would do what she was told and get whatever it was finished in a flash. And no. Up until she and Dad split up, Dad always treated her as part of the family and not like a slave.

You see, the reason that she lied to me that she was not my beloved mom was because she was nervous about what her ex-husband and Kira would do to her if she did not agree with them.

I wrapped an arm around her waist, for I was cradling Amy in the other, and hugged her. "It is fine, Mom," I reassured her. "I believe you."

I glanced up at her and saw the surprised look plastered on her face. She did not hug me back.

"You...you do, Jackson?"

"Of course. I am more than positive that you are my mom."

"Jackson." She gently pushed me away from her and bent down to my level. The smile was wiped off clean, and she put her hands on my shoulders. "Are you sure that you heard what I had to say?"

"Crystal clear, Mom. You claimed that you are not the mother who raised me right. But I know better. You are just going along with that because you do not want Kira to stab you to death."

She looked up from me and at Kira and Dad. "May I...have a conversation with him?"

I turned to them and saw Kira looking at Dad. Dad nodded, and Kira gave Mom permission to do so.

"Do not go far," Dad added. "We will be watching."

"Yes. Of course," Mom said. She took me by the hand and led me and Amy down the airport.

Fifteen seconds later, we reached a bench and halted in front of it. Mom let go of my hand and plopped onto the wooden bench. She patted the seat of the bench.

"Please, Jackson. Sit."

Even though that I did not exactly know what was going on, I did what I was told and set Baby Amy between us. Amy cooed and rested her tender head on our mother's side.

"So...is there something that you would like to talk about with us?" I asked. "Well, with me. Amy barely understands what I am saying most of the time."

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Before I begin...I only ask that you have an open mind."

"Okay..."

She cleared her throat and played with a strand of her hair.

"What did Kira do to you?"

"Lots of things that she should be arrested and held accountable for. She murdered your helper, Stacy. We found the knife in her purse that she supposedly stabbed her with. And the razor blades that I discovered were in my lunch. In my sandwich. She put those in there. She handed me my lunch in person!"

"I see. Could you fetch me my suitcase?" She pointed at it.

"Yes, Mom." I was more than happy to do it and got up. I rushed to the suitcase, picked it up by its handle, and brought it to her. I thought that it would be heavy. But it was pretty light.

I set the suitcase in front of her and sat back down. Mom pulled her suitcase into her lap and unlatched it.

Click, click!

The top of the suitcase opened, and she and I peered in. There were clothes, hygiene products...

...and a knife. The same knife that we found in Kira's purse!

I scowled at Kira. She must have planted it there to frame my mother.

"My gosh, Mom," I said. "Good thing that you opened your case. Otherwise, you would have been certainly caught with it."

Unlike me, Mom did not act surprised. She moved the knife to one of the sides of her suitcase and took out some clothing and a wig.

My mouth dropped open when I got a good look at the items. The wig was blonde...and the clothes resembled that of the ones that Kira always wore!

Why did my own mother have them?

"Jackson...I am part of your mother. However...I am not the one who was there for you. I did not raise you and Amy. I...I am the other personality."

I was about to speak, but she continued on.

"I stabbed Stacy. The knife...belongs to me. And...I dressed up as Kira. I was the one who planted the blades in your lunch."