Trevor Noahs Mom Novels & Stories

The day my little brother had his asthma attack, I poured every drop of his nebulizer medication down the bathroom sink. When Mom burst into the bathroom, the empty bottle was still dripping in my hand. Cradling my gasping brother in her arms, she slapped me across the face so hard that my ears rang. "You're only eight years old! How can you be this evil? Would you finally be happy if he died?" I wanted to tell her that the medicine was not the right one. The bottle smelled like harsh, burning bleach. The new nanny, Sophia, had grabbed the wrong bottle from the cleaning closet. But Mom didn't let me finish. She grabbed my arm, dragged me into the unfinished walk-in closet and locked the door from the outside. "You can come out when you realize your brother's life is more important than your petty jealousy." Outside, Dad was screaming while rushing my brother to the ER. Inside, I mistakenly knocked my foot over a plastic construction bucket and a thick, toxic white liquid began to puddle over my bare feet. I clawed at the door gap with my fingernails, sobbing, begging for Mom. The next morning, the hospital called. They confirmed that my brother's medication was laced with industrial cleaner. That was the exact moment Mom finally remembered that the key to the closet I was locked in was still sitting in her purse…

I was adopted. They were so good to me that every night before I fell asleep, I prayed to grow up healthy and happy in this home. Then Mom got pregnant. I hid under my covers and cried all night, quietly packing the little suitcase I had arrived with. But they didn't send me away. They loved me even more. The day my brother was born, Mom took my hand and gently stroked my head. "Having an older sister," she said, "is why we have a younger brother." Dad lifted me above his head and spun me around laughing. "Lily is our family's lucky star — our most beloved baby!" I finally stopped dreading every single day. I thought I had truly become part of this family. Then my brother snapped my favorite Barbie in half. I pushed him. He stumbled, sat on the floor, stared for two seconds, and burst into tears. Mom panicked, shoved me aside, and pulled him into her arms, asking over and over if he was hurt. Dad came running. He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me against the wall, eyes blazing. "Is this what I raised you all these years for — to bully your brother? Believe me when I say I will send you straight back to—"

As the reigning eight-time champion of the transmigration department, I'm deeply traumatized by the idea of having fight with the fake heiress. Unfortunately, not only is there an 18-year-old fake heiress in my family of this world, but she also has eight older siblings who dote on her endlessly. Seriously, the stereotypical real versus fake heiress plot is driving me crazy. I retreat into the depths of my mom's womb immediately, my tiny hands clamping down on the umbilical cord. My refusal to leave my mom's body is absolute. [Those idiotic brothers of mine keep spoiling that 18-year-old extremely childish fake heiress who insists on sitting in a baby trolley all the time! If I were to leave this place, I'd definitely get assassinated by them!] My mom, who can hear my internal thoughts, is forced to suffer due to the complications in her labor for 72 hours straight. Finally, she yields to me by signing the "Zero-Tolerance Treaty on Unequal Treatment". She also assigns 108 bodyguards to me overnight. Satisfied, I finally release my hold on the umbilical cord and make my flashy entrance to this world. Mom taps me on my forehead. "Natalie is extremely pure and innocent. She would never come up with ways to hurt you." On the first day I go home, Natalie Fairchild, the fake heiress, pushes my crib toward the staircase on purpose. "I wanna see if Nev can fly!" A bodyguard instantly reaches out to catch my crib from coursing through the air. Scared out of her wits, Natalie slumps to the floor immediately. There, she starts crying like a baby. My second brother, Elliot Fairchild, pulls her into his arms lovingly. He says reassuringly, "Don't be scared, Nat. The bodyguard must have frightened you because of his actions, right? Now, now, you can stop crying now. Nev is fine, isn't she?" The next thing he knows, he gets tossed into the heavy downpour by another bodyguard.

At a family dinner that weekend, my sister, our relatives, and I played a reverse version of "Never Have I Ever," where you bragged about stuff nobody else had done. By the third round, everyone was getting into it. Uncle Danny bragged about seeing the city at four in the morning. My cousin Kenny said he could play three instruments. I said I'd traveled to three countries for work. Then it was Sophie's turn. She lifted her chin, eyes lighting up. "I own a condo that's only in my name." A beat later, she added, "Mom bought it for me. She didn't want my future in-laws looking down on me after I get married." The table went dead quiet. I looked at Mom on instinct. She lowered her head and messed with her apron, refusing to look at me.

This is the adventure of a boy who has never set foot off the mountains where he and his mother have lived for the past ten years. Accompany Dorin, a young mage brought up alone in their mountain home. He has always been an obedient son until his mom flatly refused to let him travel to a place called 'University' to attend a so-called 'Photography Camp' he read from a flyer in one of her books. Now, filled with the thrill of adventure (and the knowledge that his mom would probably skin him alive), he embarks on a journey towards unknown lands to learn the magic of 'Photography' and all the hidden wonders in 'University' where he would find people, objects and events that would go beyond his wildest imagination. Especially since there are good reasons why her mother is trying desperately to hide him from the world.

My mother, Eleanor Leigh, is pregnant with fraternal twins, but we aren't developing well. The doctor recommends terminating my younger sister, Juliette Vance, whose chances of survival are slim. Since Dad, Thomas Vance, suffers from azoospermia and can never have children again, I, Julian Vance, become the pampered, only child of the family. For my first birthday celebration, Mom and Dad gift me a house and a vehicle. Every day, they dress me up like a porcelain doll and specifically enroll me in ballet classes to elevate my poise. They even carry me everywhere I go, terrified that I might fall and end up with a scar. I only learn I'm a boy in elementary school when I get laughed at for entering the girls' restroom, and later learn it in a science lesson. Because of my classmates' constant bullying, I break down in tears, begging Mom not to make me wear dresses anymore. However, she, who is usually so gentle with me, suddenly flies into a rage and slaps me hard across the face right in the middle of the street. "What's going to happen to your sister if you don't wear dresses? It's your fault for being born a jinx! You killed your sister! "If you hadn't stolen her nutrients, she would be alive and well right now! Our family business would be booming as well. You'll either be our daughter for the rest of your life, or you can go to hell right this instant!" It turns out Juliette and I are the children Mom and Dad begged the heavens for, and while Juliette's a lucky charm, I'm a jinx. I wear long hair and dresses because I'm Juliette's body double. I sprint away in tears, only to be sent flying by a car running a red light. As my consciousness slips away, I wish with all my heart to go back to when Mom first found out she was pregnant. This time, I'll be the one to be reduced.

I was in the late stages of kidney failure, but my husband, Calvin Quayle, gave the kidney that was the best match for me to my younger sister, Louella Lassiter. The doctor urged me to wait for another donor, but I refused. I checked out of the hospital early. I had stopped caring long ago. What was even the point of fighting anymore? I transferred all the assets I'd accumulated over the years to Louella, finally pleasing Mom and Dad. I didn't even get mad when Calvin hovered over Louella like he was some kind of devoted nurse. Instead, I told him to take good care of her. And when my son, Nathan Quayle, said he wanted Louella to be his mom? I smiled and said yes. They got exactly what they wanted, so why were they suddenly regretting it now?

When you're a single mom and find out your daughter was switched at birth with an Alpha's pup 6yrs ago. He takes you to his mansion and throws a document at you to sign. "No, I won't leave my child... wait, a marriage contract???"

Dad is famous for being a total simp over Mom in the elite society. Naturally, he views Callie Archer, the stepdaughter whom Mom has brought with her, as his own. But Callie is afflicted with a severe case of walking phobia. Her feet couldn't touch the ground at all. Only when she's stepping on my back can she roam around in the house freely. So, whenever Callie looks in a certain direction, Mom will press my head down and force me to crawl toward Callie to serve as her doormat. The doctor issues a warning to my family that my spine is severely contorted. So when Callie wants to admire the flowers in the yard while wearing a pair of spiked shoes again, I can't endure the pain anymore, so I shiver slightly out of instinct. Callie ends up losing her balance and falling to the ground. She bawls like a baby afterward. Mom rushes over immediately before kicking me in the gut, her high heel lodging into my flesh. "It's extremely rare for Callie to be willing to leave the house! Why must you ruin her mood? Can't you just be more understanding and play your role as a doormat for the sake of your sister's illness?" Meanwhile, Dad scoops Callie into his arms, his heart bleeding for her plight. He coaxes her gently, telling her that he'll buy her new dresses later. I can only curl up on the ground while hacking up blood. But Dad just thinks I'm playing the pity card. He commands his men to throw me into the basement. Apparently, I can only be released once I've learned to stay stationary when I'm supporting Callie. As I clutch my broken ribs, I feel my tears flowing down my face as well as the blood from my injuries. I'm sorry, Dad. Next time, I will definitely not move a muscle, just like a corpse.

On my birthday, my husband of five years accompanied his childhood sweetheart to celebrate her dog's birthday. Avery Simpson published a loving post: [The happiest baby in the world. Mom and Dad will be with you. I hope you're always happy.] Seeing the words "Mom and Dad", I commented a question mark with confusion. The next moment, I found myself blocked. Charles Logan called me and lashed out at me. "Why do you always have to mess things up at the worse possible time? You're worse than a dog. How despicable!" Shortly after, Avery changed her profile picture to one of her and Charles, hands intertwined. When I saw the obvious provocation, I didn't get angry like before. That's because I had already made up my mind to get a divorce.