I let one single tear trail down my cheek at the loss of the woman who was our mother.
And then I nodded.
She wouldn’t have any more bruises.
She wouldn’t have any more broken bones.
She wouldn’t have any more bloody noses.
She wouldn’t have to force a smile and tell us everything was going to be alright.
I looked at my father, who was smirking down at her coffin as they covered her with the first layer of dirt.
Age 15
Sadly, I hadn’t only lost my mother that day.
No, I started to slowly lose my Annabelle as she was becoming drawn into herself.
Staying in her room.
Not talking.
Only wearing black.
And wearing full-covering clothing.
It took me too long to figure out why.
Until she seemed to flip the script.
Age 16
She was acting out again.
I didn’t know what to do.
Until that day, on the morning of my eighteenth birthday.
Age 18
Her sobs...
I bolted into the house.
Her bedroom door was closed.
Locked.
I kicked it open.
Hewas on top of her.
I. Saw. Red.
Chapter 2
Creedence
