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A Cambió De Mi Vida Le Entregó Su Alma Al Diablo - Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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I know it' s hard for everyone to think that mothers can be bad
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or do terrible things to their children, but sometimes it can happen. So
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the next story requires discretion. I don' t know if it' s
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good to put something extra on it to warn you. I leave it to
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your consideration. My mother made a pact with something evil in order to get
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pregnant, I grew up like all the girls, cared for to grow up
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well and happy. So I don' t have bad memories of my childhood.
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My mom was a normal person. I have memories of her helping me
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do homework or preparing something to eat. She wasn' t a particularly affectionate
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woman to me. She was always tough, she kept discipline, but she
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never treated me badly. I was the only daughter he had born out of
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the union of a married man and a very young girl. My mom had
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fallen in love with a man twenty- five years older than her. When
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I went to high school, she had grown up cared for by my grandmother.
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My grandfather had passed away young, had a brother, but it seemed
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he had never gotten along with him, for he never told me about him.
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Apparently, my mother had a rather difficult character since she was a girl
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and when she fell in love with my father, she fell into a state
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of complete madness for him, so she was willing to do everything she could
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to keep her, and that had been getting pregnant to keep him. When
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my mother' s terrifying change began, she made me. It was at
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the time that I had turned fifteen and was preparing to enter high school.
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By that season, my dad had suddenly appeared unannounced. He showed up in
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front of us on the street. My mom left her phone number. Apparently,
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they saw each other later, but it didn' t work out.
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After that one, my mom threatened me. He forbade me from talking to
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my dad. If I saw him on the street or came to me,
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she told me that he was going to try to persuade me to go live
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with him, because he was looking to take me to the woman with whom
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I had cheated him. My mom was lying a while later I knew that
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she had invented that story that my dad wanted to take me to his family,
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as he didn' t know the real situation. My reaction was gross.
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I felt more than upset with that man who, after having abandoned me
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not to see him in my whole life, had the indecency to come and
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ask me to go with him. In the weeks exactly what my mother had
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said, Mr Came to see me, she tried to talk to me and
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even phoned me. He even looked me out of school at the time of
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school leaving. Naturally, I treated him badly. I told him I wasn
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' t even interested in meeting him and that it was best if he left
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me alone, because if I wasn' t going to pretend I was a
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stalker, my plan had gone well within a few days he stopped insisting on
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seeing me or having contact with me. I thought everything would get better,
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but it wasn' t. My mom was on the phone with him.
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I listened to her have conversations of hours on the phone and on more than
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one occasion I checked the phone seeing with confusion that it was my dad'
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s name. I didn' t understand what my mom was doing, so
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I decided to start a fight for hiding things. That discussion didn' t
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go well I ended up being punished and she never told me why I had
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contact with him if he had even forbidden me to accept anything my dad wanted
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to tell me or give me. When summer vacations started, I stayed locked
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up at home most of the time. My mother worked in a factory at
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night, so even though she was close to her, she was asleep most
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of the day. Resting after work one morning I got tired of being locked
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up and went to find a friend who lived relatively close to the place where
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I lived. I didn' t take long, I just left the house
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about three hours, but when I got there there was chaos at home.
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My mother was awake. The pictures above the bureau were lying on the ground,
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without the photographs on them. In the kitchen there was a burnt pot
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that smelled like stinky garbage. I didn' t say anything or ask what
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happened to the expression I saw in my mom. At that time I decided
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that it was best not to say anything, because it could start punishing me
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or scolding me. No reason. She was so distracted by her madness that
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she hadn' t even noticed she wasn' t in the house. After
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the painting incident, I started seeing my mom suspicious. It seemed like he
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was guarding things, making moves different from the usual ones in the house.
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He began to empty his life of objects and to hide pockety things or to
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leave for an hour without telling me where he was going or at what time
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he was returning. He started getting calls. All the time. She hung
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up every time the cell phone rang or the house phone. All the time
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I was upset. After those calls, he was starting to get in a
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bad mood. Then he went on to have episodes of uncontrolled rage, so
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in a few weeks I went from quiet living to surviving, hiding in my
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room most of the day. It was impossible to talk to her. One
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afternoon when the phone didn' t ring anymore, my mom decided to call
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me to talk in the living room. Strangely, she was calm out of
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nowhere. He started telling me that he didn' t want me to go
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with him, that it would be his death if I decided to go live
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with my dad but I assured him that it wasn' t going to happen,
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because he didn' t even have contact with me since I threatened to
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report him as a stalker. He didn' t believe her in any way.
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I was sure I was lying to her that I was hiding things from
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her, because my dad called her every day, every hour to tell her
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that I was soon going to go with him. We got into a fight
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with Screams because she couldn' t believe me. It was such an intense
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fight that, for the first time in my life, she went straight to
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the punches instead of trying to listen to me and yelled at me that if
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I was going that would cause her whole life to fall apart and would be
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the cause of all her misfortunes. After that fight, I began to be
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a victim of senseless punishment. I started being locked up in the house when
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she went out and was forbidden to go out without warning and tell where or
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who she was going with. Besides, he had to call me on the
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cell phone he gave me to confirm if I was with whoever he said.
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My life turned into a nightmare. Almost overnight. I thought all that would
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be fleeting, but the reality is that it was getting worse every moment,
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because its violent behaviors became a religious fanaticism without control. One Sunday afternoon,
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on which I had usually been forbidden to leave, she had begun to pray
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unchecked. He knocked on my locked door. I opened him up and he
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hit me in the face. I fell on my back. He violently opened
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the door, took a boat with water and sprayed everything on me as I
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forced myself to pray with it. I followed him in everything he said to
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me in terror. I didn' t understand what was happening to him,
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but I couldn' t ask him anything either, because I knew it could
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get worse by then. I didn' t know what I could be capable
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of anymore. Maybe he' d try to hurt me with a knife.
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If I asked him what he was doing. I looked at my mother and
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I saw that she was getting more worn out, she looked unscathed and tired.
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She always seemed erratic, forgetting what she was doing. She also left
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the burners on the stove after cooking, glued or fell everywhere her religious behavior
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led her to pray every morning, leaving me locked in my room while she
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accused me of the worst things, for in her mind she was a misplaced
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traitor and other unnumbered things. It wasn' t until the fourth or fifth
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week of all that chaos that I first heard what the voice called. I
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thought I was crazy the first time I heard her, but after several times
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listening to her and being able to record her briefly on my cell phone,
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I knew I wasn' t crazy. By the time my mother was in
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that morning madness, she started talking to someone who wasn' t there.
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I checked once or twice how to play dumb to see if she spoke on
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the phone or invited someone to the house without telling me, but it wasn
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' t anything like that. The voice listened far low, but from a
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horrible depth, as if it were an animal making strange sounds. That voice
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was present at my mother' s worst moments, also deciphering a little what
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she said. I heard him say more than once that he took my life.
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I was crying for hours when I heard that, but I couldn'
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t do anything without family or close friends. It was impossible to ask for
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help and the imprisonment made the whole situation much more difficult in the midst of
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the chaos that invaded it. My mother was still working. It was a
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short time, but there was still some order in his life. One morning
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when I prayed as usual, I opened the door and saw it pouring holy
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water with wilted flowers all over the house. I would put them in a
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boat with the water and then spray the drops everywhere. I didn' t
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pray like a normal person, the words didn' t end, I changed
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the phrases. If I cried her voice, it seemed to be distorted that
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morning that I discovered her Doing that was the result of a wave of meaningless
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blow and forbade me even to be able to open my door without permission.
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I was completely trapped in my own house, in complete terror. I tried
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to find someone to help me, but the days went by without knowing what
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to do. There was little food at home I couldn' t even go
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to the bathroom anymore. Hell broke loose in my own house. My mother
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had torn away all the saints my grandmother had left in the house. He
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also took anything that represented something religious between prayers or madness. He burned them
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on the laba hands of the bathroom. He never prayed again how he was
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doing it. For weeks with the days I began to feel sick. I
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thought someone was going to ask for me having missed more than a week of
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school, but no one would call or come to see if I was okay.
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A strange pain began to stab me in the back. I felt the
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fire burning inside me. Nightmares were a thing of every night. From that
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moment on, my mother was still on her cause, so I decided that
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if anyone had to stop her, it would be me. I was brave
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and one night, when I arrived from work, after a week of not
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going, I told her to stop with whatever she was doing without explaining,
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she threw a bag of cereal in my face and put a gallon of milk
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on the table. Then he yelled at me that I didn' t care.
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What she did was to the bathroom, where she locked herself up for
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hours. I heard her cry for a long time while I was dining alone
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in the dining room. After not eating so long, I tried to wait
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for her, but the back pain was so intense that I felt I was
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dying. I went to her room, which I was forbidden to enter,
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and I looked for a pill asking God not to leave the bathroom. When
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I moved the shoe boxes where she kept the drugs, I found a photo
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album that she' s been snuffing for a long time. I ignored the
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back pain and opened the album. Until today. I don' t know
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why I did that. If the pain was unbearable, I remember the sweat
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running through my temples. My hands were also shaking because of the pangs of
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pain, which was like electricity spreading in the middle of my back. I
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looked at the photos with surprise and the surprise quickly went to anger when I
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saw that all the photographs in which I went out were scratched had erased my
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face from every picture with pen had carved so hard that even the paper in
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the photo had been broken. Just when I yelled at the first masquerade asking
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what had happened to the family album, my mother came out of nowhere.
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He was right behind me. I turned around, but immediately I was moved
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from the horror in the shadow. I saw her face was weird. It
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looked like someone else. It was like he had a horrible mask on his
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face. He yelled at me to stop getting into what I didn' t
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care about and then kicked me on the floor. I cried from the pain
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and just as I was going to try to do something to strike her back,
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I looked back at her with a completely hard face as if she had
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stuck herself in it. That horrible expression. He told me to stop kicking
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around like an animal he didn' t know what to do with. I
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was getting in. I called my mom fondly to see if that' s
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how it is. I was reacting waiting for her to stop scaring me like
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that, but the sweeter I was with her. It seemed like he was
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trying harder to hurt me. I implored him for mercy. I' ll
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never forget that she answered me laughing that she was a crybaby. She told
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me she wasn' t my mother anymore and I' d never do it
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again. I ran to my room, closed with insurance, and put the
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desk at night to lock the door, and I started to cry. That
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was definitely not my mom, but I didn' t understand how. That
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morning it seemed like a party was all over the room. I' ve
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been listening to demonic laughter since my lock- up. It seemed like my
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mother was moving things around. The frets broke, dragged, the armchairs,
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even the dogs of the neighbors barked unchecked. I didn' t sleep all
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night. I was waiting for the time to escape. Maybe she' d
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go to work in the afternoon as usual so she could get out, or
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maybe she' d fall asleep. After being unscathed that way, I waited
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at eight in the morning to get out of my room. I opened the
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door in fear. I looked everywhere and was surprised to see that the house
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was the same as the day before. I don' t know how it
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was possible for everyone to look normal. If I' m sure I heard
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as if the house had been turned upside down in a hurry. I looked
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into the room where she slept, saw it closed and took advantage of it
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to get some food. I had a hard bread with a cold soup to
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keep the smell of food from waking her up. I also changed my clothes
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so I could get out, although I still didn' t know where I
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could run for help. I was just finishing up putting my shoes on.
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When she left the room, she was ready to go to work. I
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kept quiet looking at her and walked up to the yard to grab the broom
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in case I saw her violent. But she greeted me, as I hadn
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' t done for months, and scolded me for not having washed the dish
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on which I had had breakfast. I felt like I was going crazy,
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that I had dreamed of everything because of a disease. My mother was eating
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while watching TV. Then she told me to sit down and eat with her.
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Looking at his plate, I saw that his cereal had dead cockroaches and
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so he was eating it. Without a single gesture, I ran to puke
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in the bathroom. When I returned to the dining room, I looked at
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her carefully. His hair was tangled, but it looked like he was combed.
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She smelled bad therefore, deodorant, combined with sweat and although I wanted
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to leave there to lock myself in my room, she told me she had
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to talk seriously to me. He threatened me to sit in the dining room
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with his fork. I took strength and imagined that if something happened, I
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could take his cell phone to ask for a patrol, because when I went
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to the bathroom I had seen him connected to load himself in the fence next
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to the sink. I sat down trying not to let the tears out.
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Then she smiled at me in a horrible way with all the terror in the
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world. I asked him trembling what was wrong with him. She told me
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nothing. I told her I had changed and she answered me smiling that she
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had not changed, that I was just another person I peed of terror.
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I heard it leaked from the chair to the floor, but I tried to
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hide it by following the talk. She ate without looking at the plate,
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the television or me, because being in tune with something else in her mind.
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She didn' t tell me anything, although all the time she pronounced
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that she had something important to tell me, and so we stayed more than
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an hour suddenly she stopped to go straight to her room there I began to
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hear her snoring hard I sighed relieved. It was time to get out of
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the house. Whatever it was, because I felt that, indeed, that
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was not my mother. It was more like a devilish presence than my mom.
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When I was preparing my backpack to run away, I heard the voice
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whispering and also laughing my mother was also laughing I was able to hear that
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I was grateful because soon I was going to be able to marry and be
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happy. When I was thinking about jumping out the window, I stopped.
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I went back to the entrance to my room and started putting things in to
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keep her from going in, because I suspected that I would know that I
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would leave the house without seeing to do so. When I was pulling the
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bed through the door. I heard my mother curse me, but not just
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her voice, the other voice also heard her curse me taking all the courage
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I could go out the window. Things didn' t go as I expected
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and I dislocated my shoulder as I fell from a very high place. The
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pain in my back increased at every moment. The punctures wouldn' t let
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me move forward. The pain in my arm made me scream, but I
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was trying to shut up and I don' t know how I came to
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a door to ask for help. I' m sure I lost consciousness,
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but I felt like I was awake. I felt like I was at my
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house with my mother. She was eating cereal with cockroaches again. He saw
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how the spoonfuls of huge cockroaches and earthworms gnashing between his teeth at each bite
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were carried to his mouth. I couldn' t stop crying and that crying
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had started to go up so much that I felt the rdar as it flooded
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the house little by little until the water came to my knees. She smiled,
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her teeth looked like rotten. Then I knew that wasn' t my
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mom and yelled at her to leave that being. He mocked my naivety.
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He said the payment was missing. I remember throwing my wallet at her,
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but without even looking at me she told me that the payment was my mother,
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because giving her my life could only be paid with another life. I
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woke up with a few words in the distance to hear that someone said they
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found a number to dial, and I remembered that the only emergency number I
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had in my stuff was my mom' s. I screamed not to be
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called. The paramedics looked at me in horror and then put me back to
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bed. It was connected to several devices. The blouse was upstairs, with
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wires on his chest and serum in one hand. I began to cry the
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feeling I had had when I dreamt of that thing with my mom' s
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shape had accompanied me even awake. I panicked. I couldn' t do
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anything but cry and scream. I asked for help from one of the doctors.
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It was a horrible night. It all happened so fast. My father
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showed up next to my bed out of nowhere. I remember she was crying
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and as soon as I woke up completely, she asked me how I was
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doing and then asked me permission to hug me that night were the cops and
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staff at a mental health clinic for my mom. I never wanted to see
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her again. I don' t want to know how he is either,
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or if he' s already dead. That same night, my dad told
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me that he had been looking for me for a while, but my mom
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always hid that she had taken a judge' s order so she could be
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my legal guardian, but she had begun to get very nervous. I imagined
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that that had caused her to collapse mentally without being able to resist anything.
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I let my dad take care of everything, hoping he wouldn' t end
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up being a horrible man. To my surprise, I spent the best years
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of my family life when I moved in with him, until I started college,
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and despite everything, I visited my mother many times in the psych ward.
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That dream had marked me for life. Maybe my mother had sold herself
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for having me. Anonymous account