A Dying Mother's Darkest Secret Three Days of Hate to Protect Her

The first thing I did after my cancer diagnosis was take my twenty-year-old daughter to the hospital to have her uterus removed.

My daughter had always trusted me without question. She didn't hesitate for even a second before nodding in agreement.

But my son barged into my hospital room with a swarm of reporters and livestreamers in tow.

"Even if you are my mother, I will never let you do this! My sister is a human being, not your property. What gives you the right to decide her entire future?"

The backlash swallowed me whole.

Everyone climbed onto their moral high horse to condemn me. They splashed red paint across the hospital room door. Day and night, they cursed me, screaming that I didn't deserve to call myself a mother.

The hospital buckled under the pressure and politely suggested I check out early.

I left the familiar hospital room behind and holed up alone in a cramped studio apartment, waiting for death to come for me.

It wasn't until the truth was ripped wide open that every single person who had pointed a finger at me was left drowning in regret.

——

The moment I stepped out of my room, the shouting hit me like a wall.

"Are you insane? You get cancer and decide to ruin your daughter's life?"

"She's only twenty! Her life hasn't even started yet. How can you just rip out her uterus like it's nothing? Do you even deserve to be called a mother?"

"How could you do something so monstrous?"

I opened my mouth. My throat was so dry it burned. Not a single word came out.

That was when my son, Derek, shoved through the crowd. His face was ashen, and the fury in his eyes looked like it could incinerate me where I stood.

"Mom, I am so disappointed in you!"

"After your diagnosis, this whole family bent over backward for you. We walked on eggshells around your feelings. We begged you to stay positive, to fight the treatment."

"We gave you everything you wanted. But never in my wildest dreams did I think you'd do something like this."

"She's your baby girl. You carried her for nine months. How could you do this to her?"

The crowd pressing in around us kept growing. Strangely, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

Derek was still running his mouth, going on and on, but I was done listening. I shoved him back and jabbed my finger right in his face.

"Drop the act. You worthless little bastard. You think you're some kind of saint?"

"The biggest regret of my entire life is giving birth to you. If I'd known this day was coming, I would've drowned you in a bucket the day you were born."

A few insults weren't enough to vent what I felt. Without thinking, I gathered every ounce of strength left in my body and slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

The crack rang out sharp and clean, and the chaos around us went dead silent.

Everyone froze. Then hands grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms, keeping me from swinging again.

"She's lost her mind. She's practically on her deathbed and she's hitting people."

"Maybe God gave her cancer because even He couldn't stand to watch anymore."

Insults and accusations tangled together in the air around me. I didn't care. I actually felt lighter.

They wore themselves out eventually. Once the shouting died down, Derek seized my arm, his grip bruising, his voice urgent.

"Mom, how long are you going to keep this up?"

"I know you've never approved of her boyfriend's family. Is that why you did it? Is that why you had her uterus removed?"

The moment those words left his mouth, the entire crowd went still. Every face turned blank with shock.

No one had expected that I would do something so cruel to my own daughter over something like that.

I whipped my head around and fixed Derek with a glare that could have cut glass.

"Shut your lying mouth. When has your sister ever had a boyfriend?"

"She's as innocent as they come. She barely has any male friends at all, and you have the nerve to stand here and spew that filth about her?"