Raise No More Demons

I was a normal and loving young boy. I never knew my father and my mom would always avoid talking about him. She seemed so scared and yet she tells me she loved him. It's okay. It was my 11th birthday and she promised me we could make my favorite food: crab legs. I remember her smile as she kissed me on the forehead walking out the house. I remember us standing by the car. I remember holding her dead body in my arms. I remember my hands covered in black sticky filth. Heavier than blood and yet washed away easily. I only got one of them, I will find the others