𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘚𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

Chapter 1.

Now
Wren

Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still see the knife in my hands. My hands were small and cold, knife fallen to the floor. There is nothing special about this particular knife, Nothing to tell it apart from the others except this is the knife that pierced through my mother. In my eyes, my mothers fragile body pinned against the cabinet door, mouth open, eyes closed, all I see is the colour red. My Father comes dashing through the hallway into the small bedroom. A slam of a door as I turn to glance up at him while his eyes are gaped at my mother. He freezes almost stuck in place, a piercing scream coming from him as he finally sees my mothers ruined body. "Wren!" He cries out dropping to the floor beside her gathering her in his arms as if she was a baby rocking her back and forth. All I can do is remain silent. The words bubbling in my head want to be spoken, wanting to explain but all I can say is nothing. Inside the darkened room is the sounds of my father crying and the wind rattling outside. Soon he stands up, hands shaking as he approaches me. A sorrow angered look in his eyes. He lowers himself to pick up the knife that was used to pierce my mother as he harshly points at me. Anger clear in his face. He wants to speak I can feel it but he just looks at me as if he has been torn apart. He takes off with the knife a loud slam of the door and a panicked cry in the distance.

You Killed your mother and then your father attempted to take his own life.

Not entirely, The butterfly in the room speaks with a flap of her wings. I can only frown at this statement. I don't get why the butterfly is lying. I thought they brought truth or guidance with them. "How would you know?" I cant resist asking although I know the truth myself. The butterfly wasn't there to see what I saw nor were the plants or the furniture. It was only i and my father who witnessed the events. The butterfly crawls to greet me beside the window. I already know. So does the plants. And the furniture, She replies and flutters into another area of the room. I shake my head gloomily staring out of the window. I want to speak up and remind the butterfly who had Been my companion in this chambered room that she is wrong. Nothing in this room knows what I know. I and my father know very well what happened the day my mother was killed and I accepted that my childhood actions had consequences. I've been living with this crime and guilt for 12 years. Once you take a persons life, they never come back. You have to live with it in guilt and sorrow or forget it entirely happened. Anyone who held a knife would of known what was going to happen.

My therapists have been telling me I am suffering from depression and memory loss and in time I will get better and recover. But they are wrong I seem to have only gotten worse. I barely sleep and the times I do sleep I am haunted by the blurred images of the mansion, the dazed red stained cabinet, the scream from my father and the knife on the floor. Bloodied and Sharp. I use to think constantly if I was to take my own life would be a punishment for what I did but staying in one of the top asylums is also a greater punishment. I am the reason my mother is gone and for my fathers aggression and heart ache. The police ruled my mothers death as murder suicide and mostly blamed my father for it. All of the news reports and mentions of it on news have been able to agree: Joshua Sullivan (45) murdered his wife, Daphne Sullivan (40) for unknown reasons and turned the same knife on himself but survived. When I heard my father had survived his attempt, I couldn't help but feel devastated for him. The sorrow and hurt you must go through when you try and take your life and it to not work. Some speculated he was insane and mentally disturbed. While others speculate my father coerced me into killing my mother and using me as his back up plan. And maybe that's why I ran away and was missing, other say I dragged my mothers body after the killing and once I realised what I had done I ran. When I came out of my coma, a month later, I had no memories of the events Or what had happened. All I could really know was I was responsible in some way. My therapist, Noelle spent a while reading news reports to me or asking me questions to joggle my memory but nothing seem to reappear. And to this day even when I mention I must of killed my mother if I was sent here, they dismiss me and I can't seem to understand why. If I was sent here I must be the killer.. right?