Later on that day, Emma took a shower. She took off her robe in front of the shower curtain and stepped in the hot steaming bath. Watching all the blood off her skin as quickly as she could. Making her face clean from the blood splashes that the killings gave. The bathroom door was locked, and nobody was home. Crying she finally let out some tears, crying over her mother that she lost.
Soap studs slide down her body as she was beginning to wash herself with the Olay body wash. She watched the reflection of herself in small amounts as she was trying to focus more then just the pain. The only thing she thought of was a pain but mixing sexual pleasure with them was the only thing she could do.
Cray walked in the house but saw she was alone in the bathroom, with the door locked. He left the house and didn't come back. Emma closed her eyes, her memories flashed quickly as the flashbacks became real. How her mother died, how her mother only said her last words by just hello or I love you. The wishing she could have done more to help her mother but she wasn't there. By then... The cops probably were taking the body out of the house and taking them to the morgue. But she wasn't sure. She took the phone that her mother had and placed it underneath her bed along with her updated paintings.
Emma stepped out the shower, grabbed her towel that was hanging by the wall, next to the toilet. She grabbed the hang of her cloth of robe to get out of the shower. Feeling dizzy and angry. The rollercoaster of hate and happiness didn't belong. It was like she was in both worlds.
She turned on the television, clicked on the icons as she got bored looking through the channels she was going to pick. Hulu was close to her liking and scrolling through the old classics was what her mother liked. Harlots. The show Harlots was her and her mothers favorite show. They would watch it all day and all night. And cried doing the times when there was a sad scene. She went through her mother's things that she left at her house, the things that she never took to her own house. The baby pictures, the moments of love between spouses. She felt right at home. Although going back memory lane wasn't her favorite thing to do. Since both parents were gone, their was no need to keep the. Burning the clothes with them