Dancing from foot to foot, she threw her arms in the air, waving them wildly from side to side, head upturned to the heavens, screaming,
“Come on Satan. Let’s see what YOU can do. I worship YOU.”
Her face was a picture of mockery and pure evil.
Helen watched her in horror. She had always known her mother to be a wicked person, but this far surpassed anything she had known before. Inside, apart from the horror, she felt a knife turning as if her guts were being torn out. The pain of this moment was almost unbearable. It was as if her mother was mocking her too, and wanting to destroy her utterly. She knew, in that moment, the truth of everything. What she was looking at now was ugly beyond belief. The problem for Helen was that no one WOULD believe her. Such scenes WERE unbelievable. No one normal would act like that. But then her mother was not normal, and never had been.
In those moments, Helen thought back to that day when she had faced her mother with what she had done to her. In a way, it had been a plea for mercy, for understanding of her hurt and pain. She found it hard to believe that this woman, whom she called her mother, had no humanity in her at all. But the truth was, that she hadn’t. It was a hard truth to face. In that moment when she had faced her mother with what she had done to her, her mother did a triumphant dance on the pavement, putting a hand out in front of her and kicking her leg up to meet her hand, in a devilish dance.
Helen had always suffered from a feeling of intense fear, and she knew this fear to have originated with her mother. As an adult, it had plagued her, and in a way, she wanted her mother to in some way at least acknowledge what she had done. Stupidly, she had believed that this might be possible. But that was giving to her mother some semblance of normality – of being a human being. Little did she at that stage know that there was not one scrap of humanity in her mother at all.
How does one come to terms with something like that? Helen could not.
The monster was dead now, but even then, facing the truth about her mother was hard. Helen naturally looked for the good in everybody. No one was pure evil, she thought. But there came a time when she had to face the fact that she was. Whatever had turned her mother into this, she had no idea. But she had to face the fact that it was true.
Helen thought about the time when her mother, as a child, had learned to stick pins in dolls so that the person whom the doll represented would actually die. Her mother had told her about this, and proudly announced that she still did it. She wished cancer upon people whom she did not like, and not only that, but that they would die from it. Helen had to wonder at times, for she had had cancer herself – a cancer from which she had almost died. But now, here she was, the monster having been dead for two years, attempting to come to terms with all these things.