The quiet padding of small feet against the stairs seemed deafening in the otherwise silent house. The young girl hoped to say goodnight to her parents before going to bed for the night, but as she approached the kitchen she was met with a pool of thick crimson creeping towards her toes.
Innocent blue eyes grew impossibly wide at the sight before her, breath caught in her throat. "Papa?" The word lingered in the air before a quiet sniffle followed. Tears formed, thin wet lines dripping down her pale cheeks. "Mama?" She didn't understand. Her father lay among the growing puddle of red, her mother hovering over him with an empty look in her eye. The girl looked closer and noticed a large kitchen knife shoved into his neck, the same knife she'd seen her mother using while preparing dinner that night.
Minutes passed and no one moved. Mother stares at the body without uttering a word. The girl sniffles and wipes at her eyes with shaky hands, stumbling back a bit. She's confused, scared, and definitely not tired. A phone, that's what she needs. She rushes to her father's office, crawling into the big chair; the black leather is cold against her bare legs. Grabbing the work phone and holding it to her ear, she quickly punches in the number she'd been told to dial only in emergencies. The police would come as soon as possible. They wouldn't leave her alone, right?
YOU ARE READING
The Untitled Azura Project
Short StoryHow long does it take for a picked flower to die? Azura Fleur is a young lady from Grand Rapids with a history of abusive loved ones and a knack for finding the wrong coping mechanisms. Without a decent role model, how will she ever learn clean up h...
