I received a call, a daring call. A call that could change my life within a second. It started out normal, a conversation like usual. She was worried about me I knew it. My mum cares too much. I answeard with a simple "hello?" "where are you?", she always ask me this when i'm late home. "I'm about to cross the road, i'm right by our house I'll be there in about 2 minutes, why?", she didn't answear for a while then boldly replied with a simple "good". A simple 'good' that ripped me inside out. I knew something was wrong with her she never is this simple. Simple- something that is easily understood or done.
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Worry was overflowing me. The two minute walk home felt like an eternity. Each step felt like I was being dragged backwards as if God himself didn't want me to see what happened in the lonely yet small house. I made it to the white door. The white door that hid sorrow and guilt. The white door that hid the secrets of the one broken family. The white door that protected my secrets. I opened that white door rattling my keys attempting to stay calm. I walked in slowly but alert. Slowly looking door to door, I opened the once white bathroom. The flowing red ribbons of her blood, my mothers blood flowed gently across the floor. The stains were everywhere. The walls. The sink. The bathtub. The once white tiles were stained. I looked in disbelief. It happened again. He did it. Again.
