"Bye! See you tomorrow, Astra!" said my best friend.
"See ya, buddy!" I winked at him.
We lived next to each other, so in no time, I was finally home from school. The house looked pretty silent; maybe Dad was late again. When I opened the door, I called for Mom.
"MOM?! YOUR FAVORITE GIRL IS HERE!" I screamed.
No sounds but the weird silence. This house is always alive. This strange scent around the house is making me sick—a mix of blood and metal. I mean, maybe Dad cut his finger with the knife; he's pretty clumsy. I went to see where that smell was coming from. It was in the kitchen; I knew it. Or maybe not. When I entered, my mom was lying on the floor, surrounded by a pool of red paint around her lifeless body. I was scared and started crying when I saw him—Dad—with a knife in his hands, shaking like never before. I don't know what went through his head, but he clearly did this. I ran away. I don't think he even saw me, so I went to the neighbor's house, my so-called friend. I did everything my mom told me to do in those kinds of situations: tell the neighbors to use the phone and dial 911.
About an hour later, still at my friend's house, I saw my dad walking with a guy behind him. He had his hand behind his back and was taken to a car. Another guy, dressed similarly to the one with my dad, approached me.
"You're a very brave little girl," he said.
"Is Mom okay?"
"Sadly, no."
I slept at my friend's house for about a year after that. My old home was just there, waiting for me.
YOU ARE READING
Her Scar wasn't Blood
Science FictionTogether, Astra and Frye embark on a journey through uncharted universes where magic and danger intertwine. From dimensions where rivers glow with a supernatural light to worlds where dragons soar in vibrant skies, Astra and Frye will face unexpecte...
