Switched
- Reads 75
- Votes 4
- Parts 7
Ongoing23m
Last published Fri, Jul 8, 2016
eleven years ago
A couple of things made that day stand more than any other: it was my sixth birthday, and my mother was wielding a knife. Not a tiny steak knife, but some kind of massive butcher knife glinting in the light like in a bad horror movie. She definitely wanted to kill me.
I try to think of the day that led up to that if i missed something about her, but I have no memory of her before then. I have some memories of my childhood, and i can even remember my dad, who died when i was five, but not her.
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