She stood outside her house, her body trembling, but her mind numb. She had managed to calm herself after the nightmare that was last night, or so she thought. Now, as she placed her hand on the cold iron gate, hoping to feel grounded, it swung open with a rusty creak, the sound slicing through the eerie quiet like an omen.
the gate is not locked??? She thought confusedly.
Her heart skipped a beat, but she stepped inside, her feet moving almost with cold numbness.
The silence around her felt thick, suffocating. As she crossed the threshold of the gate, her eyes fell on the shattered remnants of plant pots spread across the ground. Pieces of ceramic lay scattered, mixed with shards of broken glass that was glistening under the dim light. Everything was in disarray, but it was the thin, dark streak snaking across the floor, a vein of blood, that froze her in place.
Her eyes locked onto the streak. Without thinking, without feeling anything, she began to follow it. Her legs moved, but her mind was blank. The blood trail led her toward the door that opened into the living room. Her breath hitched as she saw it wind up the stairs.
Each step she took was slow, deliberate. She was detached, almost floating, as though her body was on autopilot. First step, second step, third… Each footfall felt heavier than the last, like gravity itself was pulling her down, forcing her to confront something her mind wasn't ready for. The house seemed to darken around her, the walls closing in, suffocating her as she continued to climb up.
The cold air wrapped around her, causing chills to spread down her spine, and sweat broke out across her skin. She reached for the railing, her hand trembling as she grasped it. Her breath was shallow, ragged. Every stair seemed like an ascent into her own death, a revolving descent into something she didn't want to face.
Her stomach twisted, nausea rising in her throat. She gagged, covering her mouth, trying to keep herself together. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision, but still, she kept climbing, her hand gripping the banister so tightly her knuckles turned white. Step after step, each one dragging her closer to the inevitable.
At the top of the stairs, the blood trail veered to the room directly in front of her. The door stood there, closed, as if it were keeping a terrible secret. She reached for the knob, but her hand refused to cooperate. It trembled, fingers weak, slipping over the metal as though she no longer had any strength left in her body.
"No, no, no… please… please," she whispered desperately, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. Her heart heaved with sobs, but she tried again. Her hand, slick with sweat, kept slipping off the knob.
"Please… please..." Her words were choked, a pathetic cry of helplessness. Her tears blurred her vision completely now, making it impossible to see clearly. For a moment, she collapsed against the door, crying, unable to breathe properly.
At last, with a final surge of desperation, the door creaked open.
Vivian didn't even notice. She was too consumed by the blood—by the streak that led her eyes downward, pulling her into the room like a magnet. She followed it with her blurred vision, her heart hammering against her ribs, her body trembling violently. The blood streak ended at something, a large, unmoving object slumped in the corner of the room.
Was it blood? Her mind began to reel. Was it something else? She blinked, trying to focus, but her vision swam in and out. Her breathing quickened as she stumbled forward, her feet barely supporting her weight. What was that? Her mind refused to comprehend what lay ahead of her. Was it a figure? A sack of something?
Her hand fumbled along the wall until she found the light switch. She flicked it on, and the room flooded with harsh, unforgiving light.
"MAAAAAA!!!" The scream tore from her throat as she collapsed to the floor, her body shaking uncontrollably.
She fell to all fours, gasping, sobbing so hard her heart ached. The figure before her—no longer an ambiguous shape but a brutal, horrifying truth—was her mother. Her mother lay on the floor, lifeless, her once-vibrant body now nothing more than a still, silent form drenched in blood. A deep, gaping stab wound marred her chest, the crimson stain spreading beneath her.
"No… no, no, no, no!" Vivian wailed, her voice raw, as if her soul were being ripped apart. She crawled forward, her trembling hands reaching for her mother's limp body. The coldness of her skin made Vivian recoil, but she forced herself to touch her, to hold her. Her fingers hovered over the wound, shaking, afraid to make contact but unable to pull away.
"Mama, please… please, no…" she sobbed, her voice breaking into a million pieces. She clutched her mother's hand, gripping it tightly, hoping—praying—that somehow this nightmare could be undone, that her touch could bring her back. But the body remained cold, unmoving. Vivian could feel the life that had slipped away, and it shattered her.
Her mother's face, pale and peaceful in death, stared up at the ceiling, eyes half-closed, lips slightly parted as though she had whispered something with her last breath.
Vivian crumbled against her, weeping uncontrollably, her heart breaking in her body. The pain was unbearable, too immense to hold inside. She screamed again, a long, anguished cry that echoed off the walls, filling the house with the sound of her despair.
The world spun around her, the weight of her grief crashing down, suffocating her. She felt like she was drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness of her own sorrow. Nothing would ever be the same. Her mother was gone, ripped away from her in the most violent, horrific way.
she was hugging the dead tightly.
maybe the part to which she belonged to, wanted to go back to its original space, today more badly than ever… she could only utter
maaa… if I had died inside you it had been better….
she wailed and wailed hard…