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21triplea
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There, on the floor. It was my father. There he was... in a puddle of thick red blood. There, on the table. One empty bottle of alcohol and the knife he used to take his life.

Mother

There, on the floor. It was my father. There he was... in a puddle of thick red blood.

There, on the table. One empty bottle of alcohol and the knife he used to take his life.

Tears had drenched his clothes and drizzled on the table top. Oh, father.

He had always been there for me when I had lost my teddy bear to when I graduated from primary school. He was my Best Friend Forever...

He had always been there for me when I had lost my teddy bear to when I graduated from primary school. He was my Best Friend Forever... but I guess forever isn't as long as I thought.

Clenching tightly to his chest was the image of him and I, but torn out was my mother.

There, on the floor. Far from him, the other half of the photo was covered in blood. Behind it, it read: Don't trust her. Think hard, honey, you will remember.

Grace grows up with the image of her father's suicide engraved on the back of her eyelids and is forced to live alone with a widow who seemed happy that her husband was gone.

She has never told anyone about the picture but now, at age 18, she is searching for answers.

Her father had never lied before, why would he lie before his death?

Her father had never lied before, why would he lie before his death? Could her mother be someone else?

Her father had never lied before, why would he lie before his death? Could her mother be someone else? Or was her father just drunk and wanted to cause trouble?

Who could this woman be?

Who could this woman be? Is she really her mother?

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