You’re a Monster, Mum! Kids Deserve Better Than Someone Like You!

**Diary Entry 16th October**

*”You’re a monster, Mum!”* The words still echo in my mind. *”People like you shouldn’t have children!”* I threw myself into my studies after that. Then one night, out with friends at a club in London, I met Richard. Handsome, charminghis parents were abroad for work, leaving him to his own devices. I fell for him fast, too fast, and soon moved in.

We lived recklessly, funded by his parents’ generosity. Every night was another party, either at ours or somewhere else. At first, I loved it. But before I knew it, my debts piled up, my attendance dropped, and I failed my winter exams. I was on the verge of being kicked out of uni.

I promised to change. I buried myself in books, even locking myself in the loo when Richard’s mates came over. Somehow, I scraped through, but when I begged him to slow downafter all, we were in our final yearhe just laughed. *”Dont be dramatic, Eleanor. You only live once. When else are we supposed to have fun?”*

I was too ashamed to tell Mum I was living with him unmarried. Whenever she rang, I lied, saying wed had a small ceremony and planned a proper wedding once his parents returned.

Then, one morning in lectures, I felt dizzy, sick. The test confirmed my worst fearI was pregnant.

Richard insisted on an abortion. We fought like never before. He vanished for two days. When he returned, he wasnt alonehe dragged in some blonde, barely able to stand. I screamed at him, tried to shove her out. *”She’s not going anywhere. If you dont like it, *you* leave!”* he snarled, shoving me hard.

I grabbed my coat and ran. All the way to student halls, makeup streaked, face swollen. The matron took pity and let me in.

The next day, Richard came beggingswore hed never touch me again. I believed him. For the babys sake.

I barely passed first year. Terrified of facing Mum, but London scared me too. Richards parents were due back, and Ipregnant, exhaustedlooked a wreck.

When they arrived and learned I was from a small town and barely scraping by, his father cornered me. *”Take the money and go. What kind of father would he be? Just a party boy. And whos to say the childs even his?”*

Humiliated, I refusedthough Id regret it later. Richard said nothing. I packed my bags and went home.

Mum took one look at my belly and sneered. *”So, no ring? Fancy London boy had his fun and tossed you out? Did he at least pay you?”*

*”Mum, how can you”*

*”Why else would you come crawling back? We barely fit as it is. I thought youd landed a rich husband. Instead, youre knocked up. Where are we supposed to put a baby?”*

*”We?”*

*”While you were gone, I met someone. Younger. I deserve happiness too. I wont have him eyeing you up.”*

*”Where am I supposed to go?”* I whispered, tears burning.

*”Go back to the father.”*

No sympathy. Just coldness.

I sat on a park bench, sobbing. Maybe I should step in front of a car. Then the baby kickedlike a warning.

*”Eleanor?”* It was Sophie, an old schoolmate. She took me in.

Two days later, she came home excitedan elderly woman at the hospital needed a live-in carer. *”I didnt mention the baby. Just goits your shot.”*

Desperate, I agreed. The womans daughter was vile. *”Youll get her pension for expenses. But the house is minedont get ideas.”*

So I moved in with Mrs. Whitaker, caring for her, pouring out my story. When little Matilda was born, the old woman even helped soothe her.

Time passed. Matilda took her first steps. Mrs. Whitaker grew weaker, then passed. Her daughter showed up only for the funeral. *”Out. I warned you.”*

But while sorting papers, we found a willthe flat was mine. The daughter threatened court, but neighbours vouched for me.

With a home at last, I raised Matilda, worked hard. Years later, Mum reappeared*”Im ill, sold my flat for treatment.”* Foolishly, I took her in.

Then I overheard her on the phone: *”Shes not listening skimming rent money be there soon”*

All lies. Shed never sold her placejust rented it out to fund some man.

*”Youre a monster!”* I screamed. *”Get out!”*

Sophie urged forgiveness. *”You dont choose family.”* I relentedbut shed already left.

Years later, when she truly fell ill, I nursed her till the end.

Hate breeds hate. If a mother cant love her child, what love can she expect in return? But Mum she never learned.