I cook for you, clean, do the laundry, and dress you. Why do you hate me so much?
My life in a small village near York has become an endless nightmare. I, Emily, have lived under the same roof as my mother-in-law, Margaret Thompson, for years, and she’s done everything to turn my days into hell. Today, my patience ran out. I asked her the question that’s haunted me for years: “Why do you hate me so much?” No answer came—just cold silence and her contemptuous stare. My heart aches with pain, screaming at the injustice.
That day, as usual, I was cleaning the house. I vacuumed, mopped the floors, polishing everything to a shine. Then Margaret, sitting in her armchair, deliberately crumbled biscuits onto the freshly cleaned floor. I froze, unable to believe my eyes. It was intentional, and she didn’t even try to hide her spite.
“Mum, why would you do that? I saw you!” I exclaimed, fighting back tears.
She glared at me with disdain. “So what? Clean it again. It won’t kill you.”
With a smug grin, she turned back to her worn-out newspaper, which she’d read countless times. Swallowing my hurt, I grabbed the dustpan and brush and cleaned up after her. But inside, I was seething. I stepped outside to the garden—working in the fresh air sometimes calmed me. But the sting of her words and actions ate at me like poison.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I finally burst out later, standing before her. “What did I do to deserve this? I cook for you, clean, do your laundry, dress you! My daughter, Sophie, helps you too! Why?”
She didn’t even turn. Not a word, not a glance—just icy indifference. I broke down sobbing, unable to hold it in any longer. After finishing the cleaning, I started the laundry, tears still streaming down my face. My life has become an endless cycle of humiliation, and I don’t know how to escape.
My husband, Sophie’s father, died years ago. She was only eight then. Right after the funeral, Margaret declared, “You’re staying with me. Don’t even think of leaving. I won’t have the village gossiping that I threw you out.”
I agreed because I had nowhere else to go. My parents’ home was already crowded with my sister and her two children—no room for Sophie and me. I foolishly hoped Margaret and I might eventually get along. But no miracle happened. In public, she acted decently, but at home, she tormented me. She never missed a chance to remind me that I had to obey.
“You’re useless! Who would want you? No man would look twice at you, especially with a child in tow! You’ll live here with Sophie, and when I die, this house is yours. But if you step out of line, I’ll leave it to my nephews, and you’ll have nothing!”
I feared her threats and endured. I did everything to keep Sophie from going without. Now Margaret, over ninety, is in perfect health, spending her pension on luxury treats while demanding I buy her expensive delicacies. I realized too late that staying with her was a mistake. Years of humiliation have broken me.
Sophie is finishing university and will soon marry a wonderful man. They’ll live in his home, and I dearly hope she finds happiness. But I ache for myself—for the life I’ve wasted. I gave everything for my daughter and mother-in-law, and in return, all I got was scorn and loneliness. How do I find the strength to break free from this hell?
