Mom, Love Me Again — Novel

About

On the day Ashley turns eighteen, the world as she knows it shatters. Kicked out by her mother, Diane, she finds herself alone on the unforgiving streets, haunted by memories of a happier time with her late brother, Marlon. As the rain washes over her, a chance encounter reveals the cruel twist of fate that led to her family's unraveling—a tragic accident that left her bearing the blame.

But death is not the end. As Ashley lingers in a liminal space between life and the afterlife, she witnesses her family's rituals of grief and guilt, their unwavering devotion to Marlon’s memory overshadowing her very existence. Diane's cold indifference cuts deeper than any physical wound, leaving Ashley to grapple with feelings of betrayal and longing.

What happens when a soul is denied closure? As Ashley floats through the remnants of her past, she must confront not just the pain of her loss but the darkness that has seeped into the hearts of those she once loved. Can she find a way to break the cycle of blame and reclaim her narrative, or will she remain a shadow, forever overshadowed by the brother she adored? In a world where love can turn into a weapon, can a mother learn to love again, or is it too late?

Mom, Love Me Again1

The day mom Diane Keaton kicked me out of our home was my eighteenth birthday. I'd naively thought she might show some compassion, considering the occasion. But before I could even cross the threshold, I watched as my clothes and backpack were tossed into the hallway.

My key wouldn't turn in the lock; no matter how hard I pounded on the door, silence remained the only response.

I lost track of how long I stood there knocking until exhaustion finally overtook me, and I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked away.

As I wandered the streets, the autumn rain drenched me to the bone, and a shiver ran through me, blurring my vision.

I was a penniless student, and Diane had thrust me into the cold world without a second thought for my survival.

The chill of the rain felt insignificant compared to the freezing void in my heart.

Turning a corner, I spied someone who looked alarmingly like Diane across the street, her arms wrapped protectively around two children, shielding them from the wind and rain.

The scene felt so hauntingly familiar.

It brought back memories of the days before my brother Marlon Keaton's tragic death.

Diane had been kind to me then.