Huh.
That’s good.
I make my way towards the stairs as quietly as I can.
The screams grow louder and stronger.
My stomach twists.
Is that mum?
Why is she screaming?
I take the last step and follow the sound through the house.
The closer I get, the louder it becomes.
I push the door open a fraction and peer inside.
Mum is on the floor.
There’s blood everywhere.
But I don’t like her blood.
Not the way I like mine.
No.
I hate it.
I hate seeing it on her.
A man stands over her and drives his foot into her side.
She cries out.
The man shifts slightly… enough for me to see his profile.
Father.
My chest does a strange flip.
A horrible feeling grips me.
Like I’m losing something important, something I can never get back.
And suddenly it’s father’s blood I want to see.
His hands are around mum’s throat now, he’s squeezing.
I’m rooted to the spot.
Why can’t I move?
Move.
Move.
