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Weekly Contest #294
Margaret hated her daughter. Not in the way that one usually is annoyed with their child, no. It was pure hate. It boiled in her, ingrained in her pores, instilled in her brain. She knew this on the day she gave birth to her. On the day she held her in her hands staring down at her doughy face with two gorgeous blue eyes ones that matched her own. Margaret named her daughter Dawn after her mother. She vowed to be better than her mother. Kinder, calmer, and more present. That is why Margaret sat on the off-white wooden porch her husband deci...
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