Inside her nightstand, the bracelet Mom once gave her rested quietly, tucked away like a treasure too precious to wear.
My brother’s room brimmed with information about kidney failure.
His books and handwritten notes were filled with hopeful scribbles, prayers and wishes for Mom’s recovery, written in the margins like spells of hope.
I turned the whole house upside down, searching every corner.
But there was nothing.
No clue, no sign, no reason to explain why Mom would suddenly slaughter the family she loved so dearly.
In the end, I opened the home surveillance footage again.
I re-watched the video of the murders with trembling fingers.
I had already gone through it once, back when I first heard the horrifying news.
There had been no signs of tampering.
In the footage, Dad, my brother, Grandma and Mom sat around the table, eating a meal together.
Everything had seemed so normal until it wasn’t.
Halfway through, Mom quietly stood and walked into the kitchen.
While the others remained unaware, she pulled out a kitchen knife, then, without warning, began slashing at them in a frenzy.
Her movements were swift and terrifying.
None of them had time to react before collapsing one by one.
Even their screams didn’t stop her.
In the video, her face was twisted with fury as she swung the knife over and over again like she wasn’t the same woman who once held us in her arms.
It was as if she were striking someone she had hated her whole life; her brutality was chilling, far beyond savage.
Even in death, Dad, my brother and Grandma wore frozen expressions of pain and disbelief.
Their eyes remained wide open, clouded with confusion, as if they had died without understanding why, unable to rest in peace.
Only after making sure all three were completely lifeless did Mom turn and leave the house, calm and satisfied.
But before stepping out the door, she looked straight at the surveillance camera, deep, deliberate.
I swallowed my grief and kept replaying that video again and again.
From sunrise to sundown, from the first bloom of spring to the coldest depths of winter.
For three long years, I didn’t take a single step beyond that threshold.
My entire world had shrunk to a screen, the footage looping endlessly, haunting every second of my life.
During that time, Dorian Wolfe came every day to check on me.
He had been my boyfriend since our police academy days.