Mute Mom's Silent Smile, My Lifelong Regret

My mom was mute, and also, the village’s notorious outcast–publicly branded a tramp. When I was ten, I saw her, clothes disheveled, rushing out of the local bachelor’s shack, clutching two hundred dollars. I hid behind a haystack, watching the village kids pelt her with stones, calling her filthy. She didn’t dodge. She just held those two bills tightly to her chest, her face bloody, and smiled at me. It was from that day on that I never called her “Mom” again. I started studying relentlessly, just to escape this godforsaken valley and never come back. The day I got my college acceptance letter, I thought I could finally be rid of her. But then, the police surrounded our village.

I stood behind the crowd, clutching my freshly arrived college acceptance letter. My mom was escorted out by two officers. Her hair was a mess, her shirt collar torn open, revealing a faded, yellowed undershirt. She was still clutching a pair of scissors tightly, blood dripping from the tip. “I told you she was a jinx!” Mrs. Miller from next door spat on the ground, cracking sunflower seeds. “Sure, she was always with men, but killing Mr. Hayes? The town leader? This time she’s gone too far!” “That trash deserves to be executed a hundred times over.” People around us pointed and whispered, their faces alight with the thrill of a spectacle. I buried my head low, repeating to myself over and over. Please don’t look at me. Please don’t recognize me. But that woman, she stopped dead in her tracks. She searched frantically through the crowd, her eyes wide. The moment she saw me, her murky eyes suddenly lit up. Her mouth hung open, and she struggled desperately to reach me. “Ah… ah ah!” The officers yanked her, but she resisted. She tried to reach into her pocket, where she usually hid money. “Settle down!” an officer barked, pushing her into the car. The entire village’s gaze snapped onto me. “Hey, isn’t that Aurora Hayes?” “The college girl, with a murderer for a mom. Can she even go to college now?” I felt a wave of nausea and turned to run. I remembered a similar twilight when I was little. A strange man emerged from her house, adjusting his pants, a satisfied look on his face. He tossed a few crumpled bills on the ground. My mom knelt, picking them up one by one. Afterward, she’d bow low to him, then clutching the money, she’d happily run over, wanting to buy me candy. I didn’t understand. Dad had left her a significant inheritance. Our family wasn’t poor, so why did she do this? Or was it like the villagers said? She was just naturally depraved, incapable of living without a man. I slapped her hand away, and the candy rolled into the mud. “Filthy.” She froze, standing there, bewildered. From then on, I was ostracized at school. My backpack would be stuffed with dead mice, my desk carved with “SLUT.” I never cried. But I blamed her for all the hatred. I studied relentlessly, aiming for the top of my class. I thought, once I got into college, I could fly out of this valley, completely shed this stench of scandal. Just yesterday, I received my acceptance letter to the State University. I thought I had finally crawled out of the mud. But now, she was dragging me back down with her. I looked at the photo of us on the wall. It was taken ten years ago. She was hugging me, smiling so foolishly. I rushed over, ripped the photo down, and tore it to shreds. “Why are you ruining me?!” I screamed at the empty house. “Being a tramp your whole life wasn’t enough? Now you want me to be a murderer’s daughter too?”