I don't know if you've heard of her. She was all of the news a while back, but most of the buzz seems to have faded. Marianna Howard, the most notorious serial killer in the history of Chanside county. Or, rather the only serial killer in the history of Chanside county. It's a really small rural town, and until my mother the worst crime we faced was the occasional bike theft. So when she was caught, it practically destroyed the close-knit community.

I'll start from the beginning. My mother had always been a kind woman. I was an only child, and my dad walked out on us before I ever got a chance to know him. That affected mom more than she ever let on, but I could tell the scar never faded. Despite what you might think, she was a fantastic mother and an active member of the community. She worked the night shift at the local hospital but that ment during the day she had plenty of time to spend with me. I adored her. We'd go for walks around the neighbourhood and collect flowers to press. She'd read to me and teach me things about nature and the world. Even knowing what she was doing during that time, they were still some of the best days of my life.

When I started school I remember being in tears, and not wanting to leave my mom. She hugged me and told me she'd be waiting for me at the bus stop, and that we'd go to dinner at my favourite restaurant in celebration. This convinced me and I let go. Much of that day has faded from my memories, but I must have made some friends, because Annabelle told me that's when we met. As promised, mom was right there at the end of the day, waiting with open arms. I remember how she smelt that day. It was a stench that invaded my senses, like festering meat and fruit. She'd tried to hide it under layers of perfume, but it was no use. That was the first time I noticed something was wrong in my childhood.

The next time something slipped through the cracks would have been in my late grade school years. There had been some sort of flu outbreak in the school, and we were sent home early. Annabelle and I decide to make the most of the free time by playing video games and eating junk food at my house. When we arrived, there was a car I didn't recognise parked in the driveway behind my mother's old SUV. I thought this was strange as nearly everywhere in our town was within walking distance. Annabelle and I walked inside the house to see a young couple sitting at the kitchen table across from my mother. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw me.

"Kristen! What are you doing back so early??" Mom blurted, clearly panicked as the couple watched on with awkward expressions.

Annabelle and I explained the situation as she listened, her shock turning to frustration. She ushered us into my room and told us not to interrupt her conversation. I remember thinking how strange this was, as she was usually a gentle and caring person. But the mother I saw before me was someone I didn't even recognise. Annabelle felt it too, but we decided to ignore it and just play our game. I never saw those people again. When I returned from walking Annabelle home, what I assumed had been their car was gone. I asked mom about who they were, and why they were here. She gave me a look that told me it was better to keep quiet, and I returned to my room sheepishly.

After this, my mother began to change. She was still as kind and attentive towards me as ever, but she became less and less social. When I was young she was a very active member of our community. She had a lot of friends, organized a weekly book club, and started multiple charity projects. Which is why when she stopped leaving the house outside of essential shopping, people began to worry. I would only find this out later but this was around the point where she lost her job. None of these changes worried me though. To me she was the same incredible woman I'd always looked up to. At least until that day.

Tragedy struck and uprooted my idealistic life when my best friend, Annabelle Melrose went missing. The entire community was in shock, but I knew no one felt it worse than me. That sounds like a narcissistic thing to say, but her parents had never been particularly involved in her life, and she had few friends outside of our little circle. The police thought it happened on her walk home. We'd been in a fight that particular day and hadn't gone home together like we usually would have. She just didn't show up home. No one knew where she had gone. Some people said she'd run away, but I knew my Annabelle better than that. The only person who didn't seem sympathetic however, was my own mother.

I found out at school when the teacher announced it to the class. I told my mom about it, and all she could say was

"Is that so?"

This struck me, hard. It was so unlike her. The face she showed when she said those words wasn't like anything a remorseful human could make. It was cold. And distant. Not with a hint of surprise either, like she'd been waiting for me to break the news. With a newfound fear, I stumbled back and left to my room. I didn't know what would happen to me if I stayed any longer. I knew something was definitely wrong now. I didn't know what she had done, but she did something to hurt Annabelle. And I was going to find out what.

A few nights later, she had drunk herself to sleep. I took advantage of the opportunity and started to investigate. After about an hour of fruitless searching, I discovered something. It was a door, behind the clothes in her closet. It had that same rotten meat smell as she did all those years ago. I know now, that is the smell of a corpse.

I hesitantly went to open the handle. Clunk. It was locked. Frustration and curiosity fueled me as a I searched for the key. As I looked, I saw something sticking out from inside a photograph and her and I, on our first vacation. Seeing the smiles on our faces made me tear up as I realised how far we had drifted. But then I saw what was sticking out. The key. I unlocked the door and was faced with a gruesome sight, that follows me to this day.

Corpses. Everywhere. The door opened to a small concrete room covered in claw marks and dried blood. Bodies at various stages of decay sat atop a small stage. They were arranged in some kind of macabre performance, held up by wooden spikes jutting out of their rotting and maggot-filled flesh. Some of the bodies had pieces missing or added in the wrong places. In the corner of the room sat a workbench filled with various tools I could only assume had been used to torture the poor souls before they finally met their end, only to be displayed in such a way. But none of this compared to the centerpiece of the artwork. Annabelle. Her limp and decaying body hung from the ceiling, attached to hooks in her skin that ripped at her flesh and kept her suspended in the air. She was dressed in a gown made of skin with wings made from a collage of rotting fingers above her. Annabelle had taken flight. She was a decaying, rotting angel. I fell to the floor, ignoring the maggots and gore that surrounded me and I wept. I cried, and I cried and I cried. So loud in fact, that I must have woke my mother from her stupor.

A hand fell on my shoulder. I turned around to see my mother. Not the cold woman who had greeted me before, but MY mother. Warm and loving, like I used to know. She didn't seem angry, and she had a gentle smile of her face. But when she opened her eyes I could see the tears in the corner of them. The last thing she ever said before taking a knife to her throat will stay with me forever.

"Don't hate me, ok?"

I sat next to her bleeding corpse in the macabre room for hours. Eventually I mustered the strength to get up and call the police, and the rest is history. The police discovered a total of 37 bodies in that room. The one thing that was on everyone's mind was how did she get away with it in such a small town? It turns out only 15 of them were actual victims of hers, the rest of the bodies had apparently been dug up from the nearby cemetery. And, she had targeted people travelling from outside the town, who no one would notice had gone missing. Among her victims were the young couple I had seen that day. It makes me feel sick to my stomach to know what happened to them.

My mother was a horrible person. She did unforgivable things that I can't begin to understand. But I don't hate her. I don't know why, but I can't hate her. I guess in the end she won.