All I could remember was my mom with no emotions on her face. My father was laying on the trauma room bed, his hand flung on the side.
Lifeless, the doctors not moving as they confirmed the time of death. I remember this stench. This foul odor on me. I kept wondering what it was.
It was this metal smell and it filled my nose. Like I was exposed to some chemical. But then I realized…oh fathers blood is on me. It's also on my mother, and the man who was with us.
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It was everywhere it tracked into the hospital. It was on the doctors. Who knew someone could bleed this much. I never knew…I never knew until I saw my father.
For something that traumatic happening to your wife you would think it would take them a while to get over it. Considering you were holding your husband's body right?Â
Mother was always a mysterious person to me. Her actions surprised me at every turn. But as I grew older her actions no longer surprised me. Even when she married the strange man that was at my fathers death.
I figured the two planned it. Father must have caught their affair and mother and the man killed him. I mean why not? Father had a life insurance on him and left behind a pretty good decent amount of money in his will.
The only problem with this whole killing for the life insurance and will was that father left it all to me. Something my mother as crazy as she is and I could see coming.Â
Maybe that's why she was moving me back to gloomy Errlings bay to kill me off. Someone how forge the will and life insurance so she and her weird new husband could take the money.
Errlings Bay was a town in Portland that my mother was born and raised in. A gloomy little city. Where it rains and is covered with gray clouds all the time.Â
I watched out the window of my moms new cadillac truck that she had bought…from selling my childhood home. It was raining and fog had covered the window because it was cold.
I looked outside as the countless trees we passed by because of the forest. Errlings Bay was surrounded by trees and water. "Perfect for a serial killer". I mumbled.Â
"What was that?" My mother yelled back, obviously annoyed by my constant reminder to her that we we're moving to the middle of nowhere.Â
"I think she said perfect for a serial killer". My moms new husband said. I sat back in my seat and glared at the back of his head.Â
Stephen Washington was his name. Apparently he was a friend of my mom and dad. I don't see why anyone didn't find it weird that they married within a year of my fathers death.Â
But then again who would listen to a grieving 15 year old who the family thinks is a weirdo. "Your fathers death was an accident". You say that to a dead man who's laying in the pool of his own blood.Â
A slip and fall. Imagine if I was an FBI agent, no one would go uncharged in this incident. And to think that Stephen would ask me if I wanted to change my last name to Washington after he married my mom is crazy.
Esme Armani Madden is what my father named me. Why would I ever want to change that? Unless they wanted me to change my name so they could get ahold of the life insurance and will.Â
They wouldn't be able to get ahold of it anyways at least not the will. Life insurance maybe if they found a way to beat the system and take the money. But I couldn't access the will until I was 18.
I had already used some of the life insurance for dads funeral and the rest I put up. My moms sister had a hold over the will in case something happened to him.Â
Another odd thing because my mom and Aunt Neave didn't get along. That's perhaps why he left it in her care. My Aunt Neave loved me as her own though. So I know it was safe in her hands.
"Esme why don't you take a picture the view is amazing". Stephen said. I didn't want to admit that he was telling the truth so I waited a little while and then took out my camera.Â
I had to say moms hometown was beautiful. Such deep green that you wouldn't see in California. I rolled down the window to get a better photo of the rain and the forest we were passing by.Â
"Esme-" my mom began to say but was stopped by a shoulder grab by Stephen. It was a camera my father had bought me. An Canon Eos rebel. I snapped a few photos then looked at them.
Noticing in the last photo there was a dark figure in one of them. "I caught someone in the forest in one of these". I said. "No way we're way to far out from the inner town plus no ones stupid to travel this far out in the rain". My mom said, I shrugged my shoulders.
"Say that to the photo I caught". I debated. "Or perhaps it's simply something messed up in your camera pixels". My mom argued. "Impossible that would mean sometimes broken which would be impossible because I just so happened to get it looked at before we came here". I argued back.
"With your fathers life insurance". She grumbled. "Say that again"! I shouted. "Hey Esme don't shout at your mother". Stephen said. I held my hand up to Stephen, making him step out of it. "No I want her to say it again".Â
I turned to my mother. "Oh I'm sorry mother I couldn't hear you with my fathers what?" I said. "With your father's insurance money!" She screamed and turned around facing me. It was quiet and I leaned back and crossed my arms with a smirk.Â
"Oh yeah?" I said with a huge smirk on my face. Her expression darkened and she sat down and turned around.Â
It was quiet and sunk down into my seat. I put my hoodie on and put my headphones on. The big ones that was visible not the earbuds or string ones.Â
Ones that would show "hey she doesn't want to be talked to". It was quiet like that for a couple of minutes.Â
Until we reached the end of the forest and into the inner town. We rode past old diners,stores of all kinds of sorts, and then we made it to the neighborhoods.
The houses were typical houses you would see in a town like this. Old, some shaped like a rectangular container, others taken over by the modern world.
Our house in particular was one my mom couldn't get her hands on to sell for money was my fathers childhood home. Which he had left to me. My mom had to ask me if we could move to that house.Â
Of course I would say yes I wanted to move back to Errlings bay. For the sheer fact that my stepfather and mother wouldn't be able to kill me if I was surrounded by other people.
Dads house was this green Victorian style house. Dads side of the family wasn't rich at all growing up but one thing they did have in the family was the house.Â
Anything else they would be willing to let go but not the house. It was handed down hand from hand and now it was in my hands.
I had wondered if my mother would try to make me sell as did the other members who had the house spouses would try to make them sell the house.Â
It was a moment in life where it seems one would hit a state where they're having money issues. Everyone except the rich maybe.
But everyone has those moments. Maybe some more than others. But the Madden family seemed to have those issues more than others. When that time would come around it always settles down to what are we going to sell and the Madden family house was never on that list. That was until my great great great grandfather decided enough was enough and he sold the house.
My father who always drove by the house with my grandfather would always look at the house and so he vowed to buy the house when he got enough money.
Which eventually he did. So he gave it to me to have. It was always the spouses that married into the family's job to convince the maddens to sell the house.
I'm pretty sure at one point of a time my mom tried to make my dad sell the house because she was always convinced we needed more money when in actuality it was her who needed more money.
Which I'm pretty sure would never happen between me and my husband (since my father left me the house). My mom was the one with the money issue not me.Â
Dad was the one in the family after many generations to finally make a career of himself. He and my mom had moved to Michigan together. Dad went to school to be a brain surgeon at U of M.Â
Where he stayed and lived. I wouldn't blame him for not moving back to Errlings bay. Michigan was known for good medical things…and its lakes.Â
Soon we pulled up to dads family house. But in front of it was this old metal gate. That was black and brown from the rust.Â
Stephen sighed and got up the car and walked up to the gate. Leaving me and my mom in awkward silence. He shook the rusted chain that locked the tall gate from anyone entering it and came back to the car wiping his hands.
"Well the gates locked". He said pretending he wasn't just struggling with the chain . Sighed and sunk down into my seat. "Auntie Neave has the keys to the house". I said.
"Why didn't you tell that from the beginning". My mom said, "I did tell you when we were in the airport that we'd have to call auntie Neave because dad left the keys to the house with her". I said pulling my phone out.
My mom sighed and shook her head. It soon began to pour. Auntie Neave didn't answer the phone but answered with a text message saying she'll be there soon without me having to tell her we needed the keys.
It soon got dark. I figured Auntie Neave lived far but she pulled up in this vintage blue ford car like she lived somewhere in the south. Growing up Auntie Neave was always quiet and weird.
But she was the type of weird that was nice in a way. Others thought she was a mute for those close in the family; she was just quiet.
She talked…she just talked to those who she was comfortable with. Meaning she only exchanged a couple of words with my mother.Â
She looked like my dad. Like the female version of him. Her hair was long in these sisterlocks. My father also had locs. But his wasn't as long as hers.
She wore a pair of circle glasses that covered the top half of her face. She was dressed head to toe in black and always wore these long skirts no matter the weather or season.
She stepped out of the car with these black boot heels on. Waved at us from under her black umbrella making everyone else get out of the car.Â
"Hello". She greeted my mother and Stephen coldly. "Hi my dearest". She said,hugging me warmly.
"Hello Auntie Neave". I said she. She handed me the keys and gestured for me to open the gate. "I figured you should do the honors". She said.Â
I put the key into the padlock and twisted the key making the chains fall to the ground. I looked at my hands that were dirty from the dirt on the paddock and chains.Â
Dirty as they were, I rubbed the dirt off on my pants. My light blue jeans now had my handprints on them. I opened the gate with a creak and one of the gate doors had fallen off.
Slamming to the ground and splashing mud water all on me. I was drenched in mud water. It was all on my clothes, in my shoes, and hair. It was silent. I let out a huge sigh that moved my shoulders and hands.Â
"That's what being a homeowner is". Stephen said, breaking the silence. "I'll find someone to fix that dearest". Auntie Neave said and we took a set into the overgrown dark yard