M.T. Ames
Yes, Mother
Obedience Book One
First published by Tirzah M.M. Hawkins 2024
Copyright © 2024 by M.T. Ames
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
M.T. Ames has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
First edition
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
Find out more at reedsy.com
Contents
Preface
1. Wednesday
2. Thursday
3. Friday
4. Saturday
5. Sunday
6. Monday
7. Tuesday
8. Thank You!!
Preface
Yes, Mother is an extreme horror novel and is not intended for those who are easily triggered or offended. This is not a romance. There will be no HEA. This book is for those who enjoy their entertainment pitch black.
1
Wednesday
I knew going back was a bad idea. I knew it even before the phone rang.
Meisha and I had just sat down to dinner with little Johnny between us in his high chair. Yeah, it’s a little vain to name your son after yourself, but Meisha insisted that she had wanted a boy named Johnny since she was a little girl. And then when our firstborn was a boy, how was I supposed to tell her no?
There we were, just the three of us, a perfect, happy, little family, living our perfect, happy, little lives. And I had to go and ruin it.
I’m slicing into a flawlessly cooked medium-rare steak when dread settles over me like a heavy shadow. After Meisha learned that medium-rare ribeyes were my favorite food, she practiced and watched YouTube videos every week until she got it just right. Now the bloody, red meat tastes like char in my mouth. My body tightens with revulsion, and my stomach threatens to return its contents.
Something bad is about to happen.
From across the room, my cell phone rings, and I bite back a shriek.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I throw my napkin on the table and rise to answer it.
Every footfall reverberates like a shockwave through my body, disrupting my heart’s natural rhythm. I breathe through pangs of gripping panic. Answering this damn call is the last thing I want to do.
“Who is it?” Meisha asks.
I glance from my phone screen to my family. My lovely wife, with her warm brown eyes and long dark hair, smiles back at me. That smile, the first thing I’d noticed about her, never fails to weaken my knees. Now it terrifies me. Where would I be if I lost the woman of my dreams?
Little Johnny delightedly throws some peas on the floor and laughs. The mess is totally worth the amusement it brings him. I’ve never loved another human as much as I adore this little guy..
The warm sentiments they evoke in me only serve to heighten the stranglehold panic has on my throat and chest. They seem so far away, out of reach, as if I’m looking at them through the wrong end of a monocular. They’re bathed in bright dining room lights while icy darkness presses around me.
“My sister.” My voice is remarkably steady despite my trembling hands.
“Tell Jamie I say, ‘hi’.” Meisha turns back to feed Johnny another bite of pureed steak.
With great trepidation, I answer and hold the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”
“John. Hi. I have bad news.” My sister’s voice cracks.
No longer can I convince myself everything’s fine. She never calls. This is real.
“What’s wrong, Jamie?”
Meisha glances back at me, her forehead wrinkled and lips pursed in question and worry. My eyes linger on her pink rosebud lips, but when I sigh and close my eyes, it’s not my wife’s lips I see. Instead, an image of my mother’s pursed lips haunts me as she leans toward my father for a kiss.
“She’s dead, John,” Jamie manages to sputter with a heaving effort. From the hoarseness in her voice, she’s recently been crying and still is by the sound of it.
This isn’t the worst part though. This news doesn’t match the heaviness building in my body. What horror am I waiting for?
“I’m sorry, sis. When did it happen?”
Mom’s death isn’t much of a shock to me. Ever since Dad’s heart attack a few years ago, she’s been sickly and fragile. Jamie lived a few miles from her and carried the brunt of taking care of her. I used my new relationship as an excuse to remain distant. After Meisha and I married, she quickly became pregnant, and I used that as a reason to be even less involved.
