You were a short 5 minute walk away from home, but the distance from your mother kept you sane. You sat on a small park bench thinking about how angry you were with her.
Your phone started to ring, scaring the shit out of you. It was your mom. You watched the phone ring and ignored the call. She probably just wanted to give you some lame excuse, as she always did. What an asshole.
About thirty minutes later you decided to go home. You'd had enough time to calm down and you kinda wanted to hear what she had to say.
When you arrived, the door was unlocked, which was unusual because of how paranoid your mom was. Maybe she kept it unlocked for you?
You twisted the doorknob and stepped into the house, immediately sensing a presence, which you assumed was only your mom.
"Mom?" You called out.
When she didn't answer, you walked to the kitchen.
"Mom??" You called again.
Once again, no response. Strange. You walked upstairs.
"Mom???" You tried one last time, your voice laced with worry.
You walked down the hallway to her bedroom, hoping she was just asleep.
"Mom...?" You knocked gently, but to your surprise the door was already cracked. You nudged the door open.
You poked your head inside, but couldn't see much since the lights were off. You stepped into the room, an uncomfortable squelch arising from beneath your feet. Hesitantly, you flipped the light switch on and your eyes were met with a horrific movie-like scenery.
Your mom, covered in wounds and a sticky red paste, laid sprawled across the perfectly made bed. The floor was drenched with the same sickeningly vibrant paste. It was almost as if this was set up just for you.
When your confusion was replaced with an overwhelming wave of panic, you noticed your breaths getting shorter and quicker.
"You should have answered," A distorted voice rang through your ears, sending chills up your spine.
Every hair on your body stood up straight.
"Now it's too late." The voice smiled.
