@Va_Vanilla
I don’t remember much from… before. How it all started is hard to say, but my mind always seems to go back to that busted dish. No, not even her death. I know, it’s strange. Everytime I try to look back, I see those smashed pieces of my mom’s finest china. The eccentric blue patterns scattered among the shards. My sepia hands shaking from the crash. Lastly, of course, the numbing fear rushing through my veins, shaking me down to my very core. What, you may ask, am I so terribly afraid of? Well, that one’s easy. The bludgeoning alcoholic that stumbles in the door not to long after. But I’m getting ahead of myself.