The Day Before It All Went Wrong

This chapter is not yet finished!

“I didn’t do it!” I yelled at my mother, panic rising in my chest.

She slammed her fist on the table, the wood rattling beneath her force.

“BULLSHIT!” she shrieked, eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and disbelief. My heart raced.

We had fought before, but this felt different. The tension hung heavy in the air, thick as fog.

“Why won’t you believe me?” I pleaded, desperate for her to see the truth. Shadows loomed around us, dark and threatening.

I could feel the walls closing in, the weight of expectations pressing down. Was I fighting for my innocence? Or was it my very existence?

Suddenly, a loud crash came from the kitchen. My mother’s eyes flickered for a moment. I seized the opening, a spark of hope igniting within me.

“Did you hear that?” I shot a glance toward the door, instinct urging me to investigate. But she clenched her jaw and stayed put, the tension in her body coiling tighter. The kitchen, a mere few steps away, felt like a whole other world now. I could almost hear the whisper of dread, an unsettling warning lingering in the air.

“Your lies are as thin as air!” she growled, but a tremor in her voice hinted at her uncertainty. I had seen that look before�"the clash between anger and doubt. “You always find a way to twist things,” she continued, but my eyes were already slipping past her. The allure of the unknown was overpowering. I needed to confirm what I felt. My instincts screamed at me, urging me forward.

Stepping into the dimly lit kitchen, I was met with an unsettling sight: the knife block lay empty. I blinked, searching for answers, confusion unraveling into fear. What had happened? My heartbeat echoed in my ears. The chilling realization sank in; whatever had broken was tied to something much darker than our quarrel. The knife wasn’t just a utensil. It was a weapon.

I turned back to my mother, her face a twisted mask of rage and denial.

“See! Something is wrong!” I shouted, but she stood frozen, her eyes darting back and forth, searching for a reason to dismiss my panic.

“You’re always looking for drama,” she shot back, but the crack in her voice revealed her mounting paranoia. “I didn’t do it!” my voice wavered. Each repetition felt like a plea to a void, an echo into the dark corners of the house.

As I braced for her anger to reignite, a faint shuffle caught my attention. It came from behind the curtains. My breath hitched as shadows danced at the periphery of my vision. If not my mother, then who? Or what? My resolve surged. I took a step toward the dark shape lurking behind the fabric, knowing I had a choice: continue this battle or confront the true menace that had breached our fragile sanctuary. Either way, I felt the ground shift beneath me. The real fight was just beginning. I decide to shake it off and I grab my car keys and leave.

“I’m going to stay at Mia’s fora little bit.” I say while grabbing my school bag before I walk out the door.