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Rain dripped off my hair and down my sodden face, mixing in with my own burning tears. I couldn't remember why I was crying but I knew it was for some good reason. In fact I couldn't remember where I was or how I got there but I knew I was somewhere different from before. Before, I was standing outside my mother's door in our house about to go in to ask if she wanted anything from the shop. Now I was here.
I felt an overwhelming sadness within me that was probably the reason for my tears but any further explanation was out of my reach. I decided my mum would have the answers so I stumbled around through the deserted, darkened streets until I reached somewhere I recognised and followed it home.
There was no one home when I arrived, and even though I called out throughout the house there was no reply so I sat in my dad's old armchair and waited for mum to return. The night passed over without even revealing itself to me and still there was no sign of mother. I thought maybe she had gone to bed whilst I had been asleep, so I crept upstairs in the morning light and went up to her door. My hand reached out for the handle as normal but my brain was forcing it to stop; it would not let me go through and then I remembered the darkness, switching on the light to see her hanging there, feet swaying beneath her. I remembered my scream. I remembered just running from that place, just running from it all, running from the horrific reality of what had happened.