To Get My Mother's Love is My Greatest Desire

Miranda, freshly changed and in a hurry, was about to leave when a phone call came in.

"Miranda, I came by to celebrate Tony's birthday today, but nobody's answering the door. Is Tony with you?" It was my uncle, Vincent Moore.

Since David's passing, Vincent was the only one who still cared.

Everyone else seemed to avoid acknowledging my birthday, but Vincent was always there to wish me well.

Miranda's face darkened as she heard my name repeated.

"Are you all trying to drive me crazy? Why would I let a murderer into my home?

"If it weren't for him, my Larry wouldn't have died. And now you want to go see him?" Miranda's anger was palpable.

She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me and wouldn't even give me living expenses. If it weren't for David's old war buddy and Vincent secretly helping me out, I'd probably be dead by now, just as Miranda seemed to wish.

Vincent, accustomed to Miranda's temper, softened his tone. "Miranda, calm down. Today's Tony's eighteenth birthday; he's officially an adult now. As his uncle, how could I not come to see him?

"I've called Tony and knocked on the door, but he's never acted like this before. Is something wrong?" Vincent's concern was evident.

Miranda snorted. "If something's wrong, that's his problem. Who knows where he's off messing around? Only you think he's always been so well-behaved."

"No, the real issue is we can't reach him…"

My mother, clearly impatient, cut Vincent off. "Enough about him. Today's also Barry's birthday—why haven't you shown any concern for him?"

On the day Barry was adopted, Miranda gave him a name similar to her deceased son Larry's.

Vincent, unwilling to give up, tried to find out more about me but was cut off by Miranda's harsh response.

"His situation is none of my concern. I've only ever had one son!"

With that, Miranda hung up coldly, needing to drive back home to look after Barry. Just then, Dylan's call came through urgently.

"We found the skull!"

Miranda's internal struggle was evident. Her grip tightened on the gear shift before she picked up her phone and dialed Vincent.

In an unprecedented shift, Miranda's tone softened. "Vincent, there's a major case at the department that's eerily similar to one from ten years ago. Could you please pick up Barry from school? I'll deal with this as quickly as I can and come back."

Her attitude toward Vincent was a stark contrast to her previous one. Hearing about a case from ten years ago made Vincent's voice tremble with fear. "Alright, I'll go get Barry right away. Don't worry—though I still can't reach Tony. Should we…"

Miranda's face showed a flicker of discomfort as she barely contained her frustration. "Just make sure Barry is safe. I'll handle the rest."

Miranda got out of the car and turned back toward the police station.

"Sorry to make you come back," Dylan said apologetically, handing Miranda a mask. "The skull was sent by courier. It had your name as the recipient. We were waiting for you to open it, but an intern accidentally dropped the jar."

As Miranda entered the room, her expression tightened with concern. The stench of decay was overpowering; even with a mask, it was unbearable.

She followed the trail of liquid on the floor, her eyes locking onto the desk.

I desperately tried to block her view.

The trauma to my skull had left it shattered, a grotesque sight.

But Miranda still saw it.

She rushed forward, her eyes locked on the skull in the jar. "Who sent this?!"

I shivered, tears streaming down my face alongside Miranda's.

I wanted nothing more than to go back and kill the bastard who did this.

Eight years ago, when Larry's skull was found, it had been the same horrific scene.

The killer had blindfolded me and made me hold his hand while I could only hear Larry's screams—harrowing and piercing.

I'd wake up screaming from nightmares that seemed to last forever.

When it was my turn, the police had broken down the door, and I'd been holding the weapon, covered in blood.

The killer had pressed a knife against my neck, ranting that I had killed my own Larry just to stay alive.

Larry was outgoing and cheerful, while I was quiet and reserved. Nobody trusted me.

He had fallen from a great height, leaving no witnesses to refute the claims.

Miranda had believed the words of a deranged murderer.

I had begged her for forgiveness, saying I was forced to act.

But Miranda had only squeezed my neck tighter, her eyes blazing with rage, wishing for my death.

Now, with the case resurfacing, the horror of Larry's fate replayed in Miranda's mind, filling her with boundless fury.

I'm sorry, Miranda. I'm the one who died and caused you pain.

Dylan, his face reflecting sorrow, tried to comfort Miranda. "We're investigating the sender, and we should have news soon."

Just then, a call came in from another officer. "Dylan, we've found the sender's address… It matches Tony's address."

The voice of the officer blared through the loudspeaker, clear as day for everyone to hear.

Miranda stalled for a moment, her eyes igniting with fury, her features contorted with hatred. "That monster! Killing his own Larry wasn't enough—now he's out for blood?!

"He's always been a little off, you know? Everyone remembers he said he'd kill Larry just to survive—how twisted is that?"

"He's a psychopathic freak! A born criminal!

"What are we waiting for? Get him arrested now!"

Her words cut deep, piercing through me like shards of ice.

I struggled to breathe, but what did it matter? I was already dead. How could I still feel pain?

I recalled how, when I was younger, she praised my calm demeanor.

Now, I had become the oddball, the ruthless spawn of evil in her eyes.

Dylan's brow furrowed with concern. "Wait a minute. There's something off here. Murderers don't just easily reveal their whereabouts. You need to take a breath…"

"What's off about it? That animal had the guts to turn on his own brother eight years ago. He's already a registered psycho! It was your department that didn't have enough evidence to put him away! Now we have physical evidence right here! Are you really going to protect him?"

Miranda seemed eager to pin the blame on me, her sanity slipping away.

Each accusation—freak, monster, murderer—was like a needle, stabbing deep into my heart, leaving me icy cold.

Eight years had passed.

Miranda never trusted me.

"Calm down. He's your son, not the enemy. We won't protect any criminal. We need to find Tony, figure this all out first," Dylan said, his voice heavy with gravity.

Miranda's eyes, bloodshot and exhausted, hinted at despair. "He's not my son. Do you have any idea? For the past eight years, every time I see his face, I remember the gruesome deaths of Larry and David. I hate him! I should have gone with David back then; I never should have survived!"

Dylan's eyes glistened, his lips moving wordlessly, overwhelmed by her words.

As the police went over the surveillance footage, they confirmed I'd last been seen at school.

Miranda immediately grabbed her car keys and jumped in as if my guilt was a foregone conclusion.

I floated overhead, torn between sorrow and a strange thrill.

Miranda was heading to my school.

For all those years, my seat at parent-teacher meetings had been empty, leaving my classmates believing I was an orphan.

I told them my mother was the best forensic expert in town, but they scoffed, saying I was just bragging and "stealing" mother away from Barry.

I couldn't prove my worth. Not when Miranda never showed up to support me, always taking Barry to school and attending every event without fail.

When Miranda stepped out of the car, she spotted Vincent and Barry right away.

I recoiled, the memories of my last moments flooding back.

Even though Miranda's accusations wounded me deeper than I could express, I still felt the urge to yell out, "Mom! Don't go over there! He's the one who killed me! He's the real monster!"

But Miranda didn't hear me.

With a smile lighting up her face, she walked toward Barry, her expression softening in a way I had never seen before.

She wrapped him in her arms, scanning him with a look of pure joy, almost to the point of tears—as if he were a treasure she thought she'd lost forever.

I stood off to the side, feeling like a rat peeking into the lives of those who still had happiness.

Mom? If you only knew he was the one who took me away from you, would you still be so happy?

"Barry, are you okay?"

Barry flashed a grin, greeting the officers who had come with Miranda and turning back to her. "What could possibly happen at school? Oh, and why did Uncle Vincent come to pick me up in the middle of the parent-teacher conference?"

"Eight years ago…"

"It's nothing. Vincent just came to celebrate your birthday with you. Go on with him, Barry. I will finish up my work and come back to celebrate with you. Vincent, please look after Barry for me."

Miranda cut Dylan off, trying to cover up the murder case, clearly worried that Barry might get scared.

Seeing Miranda's careful demeanor, I suddenly felt a pang of envy toward this adopted son who shared no blood with us.

He seemed to effortlessly receive all of Miranda's love.

Barry's eyes lit up, but he didn't press further. He simply smiled and said goodbye to Miranda.

Miranda watched Barry's departing figure, her gaze filled with maternal warmth.

"Barry is so well-behaved and understanding. Even with my busy schedule, he's never gotten upset about me missing the parent-teacher meetings."

Dylan shot a look at Miranda, hesitant to speak, but eventually said, "Tony has spent eight years suffering in silence. After this case is over, you might want to take a closer look at Tony."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Miranda's previously gentle expression turned anxious.

"Don't talk about him anymore. I'm heading out now to bring that monster to justice."

Dylan sighed in resignation, shaking his head as he walked away.

Hearing Miranda's words, I curled up helplessly.

Mom, I'm not the killer. I'm already gone.

I guess I'm bound to disappoint you…