Haunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet, #2) by H.D. Carlton EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author Name: H.D. Carlton
- Book Genre: Adult, Dark, Fantasy, Fiction, Horror, Mystery, Thriller
- ISBN # B09CLVJJ77
- Edition Language: English
- Date of Publication: 2021-8-12
- PDF File Size: 4.6 MB
- EPUB File Size: 3.5 MB
The Manipulator
Sometimes I have very dark thoughts about my mother—thoughts
no sane daughter should ever have.
Sometimes, I’m not always sane.
“Addie, you’re being ridiculous,” Mom says through the speaker on
my phone. I glare at it in response, refusing to argue with her. When
I have nothing to say, she sighs loudly. I wrinkle my nose. It blows
my mind that this woman always called Nana dramatic yet can’t see
her own flair for the dramatics.
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“Just because your grandparents gave you the house doesn’t
mean you have to actually live in it. It’s old and would be doing
everyone in that city a favor if it were torn down.”
I thump my head against the headrest, rolling my eyes upward and
trying to find patience weaved into the stained roof of my car.
How did I manage to get ketchup up there?
“And just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean I can’t live in it,” I
retort dryly.
My mother is a bitch. Plain and simple. She’s always had a chip on
her shoulder, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.
“You’ll be living an hour from us! That will be incredibly
inconvenient for you to come visit us, won’t it?”
Oh, how will I ever survive?
Pretty sure my gynecologist is an hour away, too, but I still make
an effort to see her once a year. And those visits are far more
painful.
“Nope,” I reply, popping the P. I’m over this conversation. My
patience only lasts an entire sixty seconds talking to my mother.
After that, I’m running on fumes and have no desire to put in any
more effort to keep the conversation moving along.
If it’s not one thing, it’s the other. She always manages to find
something to complain about. This time, it’s my choice to live in the
house my grandparents gave to me. I grew up in Parsons Manor,
running alongside the ghosts in the halls and baking cookies with
Nana. I have fond memories here—memories I refuse to let go of
just because Mom didn’t get along with Nana.
I never understood the tension between them, but as I got older
and started to comprehend Mom’s snarkiness and underhanded
insults for what they were, it made sense.
Nana always had a positive, sunny outlook on life, viewing the
world through rose-colored glasses. She was always smiling and
humming, while Mom is cursed with a perpetual scowl on her face
and looking at life like her glasses got smashed when she was
plunged out of Nana’s vagina. I don’t know why her personality never
developed past that of a porcupine—she was never raised to be a
prickly bitch.
Growing up, my mom and dad had a house only a mile away from
Parsons Manor. She could barely tolerate me, so I spent most of my
childhood in this house. It wasn’t until I left for college that Mom
moved out of town an hour away.
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