The Diary of Shira Stuart

Some things were just too hard to grasp.

There are two possible reasons why I’m writing this diary. Maybe it was to confidence myself that there was no way.

Or maybe to confidence myself that yes, my mother has been causing me harm all these years.

Either way, I was glad I didn't have to go though it alone.


1. Entry - June 12

Jun 12

I keep telling myself that I should have known. That I could have done something to help. It had been almost ten years, I should have picked up on something, anything. If I had known, I would have stopped making her mad. 

The doctors, police officers and even my dad and his husband told me it wasn't my fault. That I couldn't have stopped anything, that just me being there was enough. I tried to tell myself that, but guilt still ate up at me. 

Then I think back.

There was no way the mom I knew, the one who baked me brownies and went to every school play, could have been hurting me all these years. The only thing wrong with the brownies was the stomachache I got and that was because I age too much. I was eight, what eight year old would think that their mom caused the pain? Mothers were supposed to take pain away, not cause it. 

But laying in that hospital bed, with proof of arsenic poisoning before my own eyes, I couldn't deny it. Every time I came to the hospital, it was because of the woman who raised me. Every pain I had felt was because of the woman I loved to my very core. 

That day, everything just fall apart. 

I remember crying into my step-dad's shirt as my mom was put into handcuffs. I remember that my doctor held back my dad as he screamed at her. 

I remember looking into my mom's eyes, seeing the look of betrayal in deep blue orbs. 

It was in that moment that guilt reveled itself and wouldn't leave me. 


~ Shira Stuart

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