Malad's mother was uploading the pictures of the recent batch of beauty products that had arrived that day when she heard the sharp ring of the doorbell. The rottweiler, called Benji, jumped with a glee on his face and darted towards the door before Malad's mother had even pushed her chair back. She arrived, slowly limping across the hallway until she saw the face of her long-lost daughter through the glass door, at which point she practically ran towards the door, her glee matching that of the rottweiler.
Malad announced, "Don't get too excited, I have only come to change this bag. I've worn all the outfits in mine about a thousand times. I'm not here to stay."
"Really?" sighed her mother. "But surely you could stay for a bite?"
"No," was Malad's stern reply.
"Or a sip of tea?" she tried again, only to be met by another rejection and a frown.
Malad's room was exactly as she had left it last time. No one had dared touch her belongings in case she came back and shouted at them for having done so. After all, there was no point in fighting something they had no power over controlling. Her feelings.
"At least talk to me about it." Malad's mother offered, extending her hand to touch Malad's shoulder as she saw her changing her bag, getting further and further from her reach by the passing second. As Malad shrugged her hand off, the look of defeat appeared on Malad's mother's face. The wrinkles in her frown became as deep as the valleys Malad had seen in Tibet. As she touched the doorknob of the glass front door, Malad heard a painful scream. The scream whose echoes will haunt her in her dreams for years to come. When she turned back, she found her mother sinking onto the floor, hand on her chest, calling for help.
Malad instantly called 999, crouching next to her mother, trying to keep the rottweiler away from her mother while constantly monitoring her condition.