Mother's hands were up, pressing against her messy blonde hair. Quiet sobs made her entire body shake. Her knees dug into the tiled floor of the kitchen, muscles tense and head tilted toward the ground.
Behind her stood a man.
He wore a grey mask that shielded his identity from me. His strong body knelt gracefully beside my mother's, and black gloves covered his long fingers.
I brought a hand to my mouth as my gut wretched inside of me.
Because he was holding a hand up to her neck.
And I could recognize that knife from anywhere.
YOU ARE READING
Orphaned
Short Story12 year old Dean Hansen always loved Christmas, but this year things were going to be different. His parents had been acting strange; more secretive. But with the sudden disappearance of his older sister, presents under the tree are about to be the...
