Mom, I'll Never Eat Ice Cream Again

After a childhood squabble in their father’s refrigerated truck leaves the protagonist unconscious, young Owen Rivera freezes to death alone. Security footage captures his three-hour struggle, driving their mother to a violent breakdown. Blaming the survivor for not opening the door, their father retaliates by locking them inside the same dark, sub-zero freezer. As the protagonist’s consciousness fades in the exact spot Owen died, a final, chilling vow is made to never touch ice cream again.

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Chapter 2

Owen's body couldn't just stay there. Mom and Dad needed to send him to the funeral home.

Dad sighed helplessly. "We should bring Ivy too. They're siblings, after all. She should be there to see Owen off."

"She doesn't deserve to see my son off. Tell her to get lost. She has no right to show up at Owen's funeral!" Mom snapped.

Dad ignored Mom's fury and called for me several times.

I desperately wanted to answer him, but I couldn't make a sound. My body was transparent.

When no one responded, Mom grew even angrier and swept everything off the table onto the floor. "That wretched girl has no heart! What did I do to deserve a daughter like this?

"All she does is braid that stupid hair and fuss over herself. She's only eight years old and already so vain. I don't know who she takes after.

"First, she kills her own brother. And now, when it's time to say goodbye to him one last time, she's hiding somewhere. When I get back, I'll kill her myself."

At the funeral, Mom and Dad sobbed their hearts out. Mom especially looked like she might collapse from crying.

"Owen, I worked so hard just to save up money to buy you a house someday. Now that you're gone, I have nothing left to look forward to."

Even though Owen was dead, I was still here. They still had me. I was their daughter too.

Dad held Mom tenderly, his eyes brimming with heartache. I wanted to reach out and wipe away Mom's tears, but I was dead now.

When they returned home, neither of them mentioned me. It wasn't until the next day that Dad finally said something about calling me for dinner.

Before he could even finish, Mom's emotions flared up again. "Why bother calling her? She's old enough to feed herself.

"If she's not eating, she must be sneaking food somewhere else. And if she does starve, she'd deserve it.

"She killed my Owen. What's she still living for? She should have died instead of my Owen."

She didn't have to worry. I was already dead. I could keep Owen company now.

I never understood why Mom hated me so much. Once, when Owen was asleep, I went to the bathroom, and she pointed a finger at me and screamed.

"You little brat, you did that on purpose! You just wanted to disturb my son's sleep."

After that, I didn't even dare drink much water. I only used the bathroom once a day.

Owen was mischievous and liked riding on my back like I was a horse. He was so heavy I could barely hold him up, but I still gritted my teeth and carried him around in circles again and again.

Even the ice cream this time, Dad only gave it to me when Mom wasn't home. Owen could eat ice cream whenever he wanted.

I just wanted so badly to know what ice cream tasted like. That was the only reason I didn't give it to him.

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Action Horror Modern Mystery Romance

8.5

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9.6

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8.8

I lived in the shadow of the Randolph estate, a scholarship girl who spent years calling the heir of the family "brother." I thought the cold distance between us was my protection, a boundary that would keep me safe in a world of wealth and power. Then I woke up on the thick Persian rug of his private study, my body aching and my mind fractured by disjointed, violent memories of whiskey and his scorching touch. Panic flooded my chest as I scrambled to cover myself with a discarded blouse, desperately stammering that it was a mistake, a drunken lapse in judgment. But Hunter sat on the sofa, unbothered and terrifyingly sober. He watched me with eyes that lacked any hint of the haze that clouded my own. "I wasn't drunk, Herminia." The air left the room. He had been fully aware while I was lost in the smoke. Before I could flee, he caught me, his fingers digging into my waist with a grip that felt more like a claim than a rescue. A dark purple bruise bloomed on my neck—a mark of possession that meant my life was over if our mother, Barbara, ever saw it. Instead of letting me go, Hunter used my terror to tighten the noose. He manipulated Barbara into moving me to the East Wing, his private sector where no staff were allowed and every door was a dead end. I became a prisoner in a silk-lined cage, watched by bodyguards he hired to "protect" me from the very scandal he created. At breakfast, I had to sit in silence as Barbara planned his marriage to a wealthy heiress, all while his foot pressed possessively against my leg under the table. He wanted a perfect wife for the cameras and me hidden in his wing as his "common distraction." He even tasted the blood from my wounded finger, whispering that I was his. I looked at the high lace collar hiding my shame and the bars on my beautiful windows. My "brother" was a predator who had bought everyone I trusted, from the maids to my own assistant. As the florists began delivering lilies for his engagement party, I realized I was standing on the edge of a bottomless abyss, and the only person holding the key to my cage was the monster who wanted to consume me.

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Billionaire Horror LGBT+Modern

Mom, I'll Never Eat Ice Cream Again

Chapter 2

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