My husband says I'm a parasite, my son thinks I'm ashamed, and I send them to prison after rebirth.

I collapsed in the grocery store on the seventh day of my liquid diet. My husband, Robert, had complained about my thick waist, and my son, Dylan, had been embarrassed by me at parent-teacher conferences.

Before I was reborn, Dylan pushed me into a wall, and a sharp nail pierced my head. In my dying moments, I saw a family portrait of them and the other woman.

“Mom, my new mom is a hundred times prettier than you,” Dylan giggled, his blood-stained hands still innocent.

Now, staring at my swollen face in the mirror, I spat out the last bit of sour water from my stomach.