Let me first start you off with a warning. Don't you dare love her. I never said don't like her, in fact you better. Because if you dont, I'd cry for you. If you love her....I'd pray for you, because then no matter what, you'd always love the person and I mean "no matter". So don't you dare love her.

Now that that's clear, you're probably wondering who I am and who I'm talking about.   Did I frighten you a bit....no weird you out? I hope so cause it's not gonna get better. This isn't a pleasent story with just problems and adventures and you get your climax and resolution. It's completely different. If you can't handle gore, do leave. I have warned already.

I am am insight if you will. I am a human being with nothing extraordinary. In Fact, I'd rather be homeless on the verge of death. A lot of people complain about the family they get born into and trust me, I have you beat. I can't talk with my mouth sowed shut, so all I do is watch.  Watch and watch and can never utter a word. And I don't exaggerate about not being able to speak. I'm not scared into being a mute. I have been forced to quietness.

I remember it all.

I remember being bound to the torn chair, arms clamped by metal so tight to cut circulation. Pulling at them even though in the back of my mind I wasn't getting out. I bored into her emotionless eyes but her smile was genuine. Wasn't it your duty to make a mother pleased and happy? If so I was making her very happy.

Her soft fingers ran on my cheek with heartbreaking gentleness. A whimper escaped my mouth as my whole body trembled.

I wanted to plead and ask why, but her eyes captivated my words. She hummed a sickening tune in my ear as she grabbed a peice of black cloth. Her smile never faded, bringing the long cloth to my eyes.

I was blind to the dark. It's finger tips running on the back of my neck, nails so sharp to cut, easing down my back and the fear. The fear licked at my cheeks and purred in my ear. This fear was no friend, it hovered over me, captivated and made me dread the unseeable.

Obeying and no longer fighting was programmed in me by now.

You shouldn't be afraid of a mother. So why was I shaking, why was I feeling that way. You should never fear a mother. Love her. Love her, with all your heart.

Are you understanding now why I warned you.

Her sickening melody filled my ears, my eyes blind to everything. As I was blind, and as she was now quiet, I didn't see her unroll the thread. I didn't see her feed the needle. I didn't see her come close and kiss my hot, sweaty forehead. I felt it, the tenderness was dread.

And I didn't see her come close with the needle until her hand grabbed my head with such a painful grasp, singing her melody once again. A beautiful voice with so much horror.  My body stilled and my mind raced. I didn't see as she readied the needle.

 I felt it.

The piercing pain as she went agonisingly slow under my lip. I wanted to scream, but if I messed up her work I would get worse. The tears spilled over my eyes, and I couldn't see.

I felt.

I felt my blood trailing along my skin and the needle busting through until it stopped.

Her right hand moved to my jaw, tilting my head up, before I herd metal being moved. My ears desperately sought out what it was, but it failed me. Her fingers felt my tongue, and pulled it out.

And my stomach sunk.

I felt the two parts of metal cool on my tounge and the pressure began. The metal squeezed together and I shook. Slowly, so slowly it cut. It squeezed and cut my tounge, so so torturiously slow. Blood filled my mouth, the metallic taste was all I could taste, so thick and sickening I was going to choke.

Snip snip snip it goes along my tounge. Imagine being blind to pain. And the pain is sooo slow. Never ending it seems. I couldn't see but i knew she had a smile plastered on her face. She was happy from the gushing blood and the way my tounge was being so precisely cut.

It was as if it would never end until the cutting ended with a loud snip. The sound I will never forget. Every time I hear those wicked things I will think of it cutting my tongue.

Snip.

Snip.

Snip.

And maybe because I was use to her wickedness that I still loved her. She was my mother after all.

She finished the threading overtime, locking the blood from my tounge in my mouth, leaving me to have to swallow the thick metallic stuff. I wanted to choke. It was so stomach aching hard to swallow it, my throat was coated with it.  Yet it felt bare.

How do I eat and drink you ask?

Three times a day. Every day.

She cuts the thread with the siccors. Three times a day, I'm blinded and hear the snips. Three times a day she threads the needle and proceeds.

I still love her. She is my mother. Why do you think I warned you?