I used to think the world began and ended in our kitchen.
The yellowed walls. The flickering light.
The smell of boiled cabbage that seeped into our hair and clothes.
Mama always stood there, making lists.
She loved lists — each one neat, each one numbered.
Milk. Bread. Apples. Meat.
She wrote them out every morning, even when there was nothing in the cupboard and no money in her purse.
The paper would shake in her hands.
She'd bite her lip until it bled, then call us over with that sing-song voice.
"Girls… guess what we're doing today?"
It was never really a question.
My sister — Lena, the always happy twin would giggle and clap while i the quiet twin would just nod and listen.
We'd follow her into town, her thin fingers clamped around ours like she was afraid we'd blow away.
Sometimes she'd buy us a sweet.
Sometimes she wouldn't speak at all.
But she always kept the list folded in her pocket like it was holy scripture.
Everything was normal then.
That was before the day the list got… longer.
---
That morning it happened, Mama didn't wake us with her sweet voice.
She shook me hard enough to rattle my teeth.
"Get up," she hissed. "It's early."
Her eyes were dark, swollen from crying.
Her lips were dry.
"Where's Lena?" I asked, seeing her empty bed beside mine.
"She's not feeling well," Mama muttered.
But she didn't look at me when she said it.
She handed me a crumpled piece of paper.
I remember the shaky handwriting, the first few lines like normal:
1. Milk
2. Bread
3. Apples
4. Meat
And then, written underneath, so faint I thought my eyes were tricking me:
5. The girl.
Huh?
I look at my mom, " Mama, what does this mean?"
Mama didn't answer.
She put on her coat and told me to keep quiet.
Her nails dug into my shoulder when I asked about Lena again.
---
We didn't go to the market.
She led me down the back streets, past shuttered shops, into the narrow alleys where the air smelled of damp and rot.
I felt scared.
"Mama… I don't like it here."
Her hand squeezed mine tighter. "Almost done."
"What?" I asked.
That's when I heard it — something dragging across the cobblestones behind us.
I turned and saw him.
The man was impossibly tall, wearing a sack over his head with a painted smile that was too wide.
The fabric bulged where his nose should be.
He was holding a sack.
Something inside it shifted and thumped.
Mama didn't even flinch when he stepped closer.
"You're late," he rasped through the burlap.
"I had to make sure," Mama said.
Her voice cracked. "I brought the list."
The man chuckled. "You always do."
He opened the sack.
Inside… was hair.
Brown hair, tied in neat ribbons.
Ribbons I recognized.
"Lena…?" My throat closed.
"Mama, w-why is Lena-"
Mama knelt in front of me, gripping my arms. "I had to. She was sick. It would've spread."
"What....?"
Then i saw the man looking at me.
The man tilted his head. "You're keeping this one?"
Mama nodded. "She's stronger. She can help me."
---
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling while Mama hummed in the kitchen.
I could hear her chopping something.
The chopping went on too long.
It wasn't carrots.
When I finally crept to the doorway, I saw her bent over the table, separating meat into neat piles.
She worked with the same precision she used for her shopping lists.
The smell was wrong.
Too sweet.
Too heavy.
I saw the ribbons again, neatly folded beside the cutting board.
"Lena….?"
She caught me watching and came to my side,
"Don't cry," she said. "We eat to live."
I ran to my room, but I could still hear her humming, the knife tapping in rhythm.
---
Days blurred.
We didn't speak about Lena. The list on the fridge grew stranger.
1. Soap
2. Flour
3. Bones for broth
4. Hair dye
5. The girl
Each time, I'd glance at her.
Each time, she'd give me a sweet smile.
But that smile no longer feels warm, i felt disgusted and scared looking at it.
I couldn't sleep no more.
Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw the man with the sack, the shifting inside his bag.
One evening, Mama told me to put on my coat.
"We're going shopping."
My legs locked. "No."
She stepped forward, her face shadowed.
"You're my daughter. You do as I say."
No!!
I don't remember picking up the rolling pin.
I only remember the sound.
A dull, wet crack.
I saw her eyes went wide, her mouth opened — but no sound came.
She stumbled.
I hit her again. And again.
By the time I stopped, the kitchen was silent except for my heavy breathing.
I….i kill my mom…
The list lay on the floor, blood soaking into the paper.
I thought I'd feel free.
But the silence was worse.
The house seemed to breathe.
Shadows pooled in the corners.
Then I heard it. That dragging sound, slow and patient.
I turned — and there he was, filling the doorway, the sack still grinning.
"She's gone," I whispered.
"I know," he said, voice low. "Now the list is yours."
He held out a blank piece of paper.
---
It's been months since my late father's sister took me in.
I make the lists now. I shop for meat, bread, apples. And sometimes… other things.
After i was relocated, i found out that on the days we went out with mom, people were going missing and are never found.
That has been going on for the last 5 years.
The market vendors have started smiling at me the way they used to smile at her.
I keep the lists in a box under my bed.
Sometimes, I take them out and read them all.
I can't remember which ones were hers and which ones are mine.
It doesn't matter.
The last line is always the same.
5. The girl.
Stream Commentary; Tape #28. "Mama's Stopping List "
[Kai returns]
"Let's open the comment section"
[@Jaija: Kai, the hell is going on here?]
[@Ovesix: what's wrong with the mother? I don't understand a thing!]
[@642:the story feels half-baked]
[@Enchomay: the mother is a serial killer who even killed her own daughter, something is missing…]
[@642: she said Lena was sick and it could spread… what does she meant?]
[@Ovesix: the mother and the potato-sack-faced guy are acting like business partners.
Who is this guy by the way?]
[@Jaija: but why her own daughter though?]
[@Jaija: Kai, i know i don't like books but am not that stupid so please tell us what's wrong with mother, to me she didn't seem to be the problem]
[@Enchomay: we share the same conclusion i see]
(Kai leans back, speaking slowly)
"You're all asking the right questions… but the truth is, sometimes the worst monsters aren't summoned—they're raised.
Maybe she was born wrong.
Maybe she learned wrong.
Or maybe….something hollow whispered into her heart for years until it became her only voice."
(He smiles )
Evil doesn't always arrive at your door wearing claws and horns.
Sometimes, it greets you every morning at the breakfast table.
Sometimes, it's blood of your blood.
And sometimes, you'll never know why they did it… because even they don't know."
And to answer your questions, you might know the answers after the next story.
(Sitting straight)
"Next time, we're leaving the house.
We're going somewhere that promises to take care of you.
Heal you.
Make you whole.
It's called the "Perfect Health Care Clinic."
Ah, those words that every human wants to hear
(He tilts his head, smirks faintly)
"But don't let the name fool you…