That day started out so good. I went with Daddy to his workplace, and I watched him curing the cars. I must admit that it looked really dirty, what he was doing: he had oil marks all over his ugly clothes, and a huge oil mark on his forehead. I wrinkled my forehead, while I tried to hold back a laugh.
“What’s so funny, kiddo?” he asked me when he finished his work, wiping his hands into an ugly-looking thing. I shook my head, took out a tissue, and cleaned his forehead off.
“This job is so ugly,” I said. “So dirty.”
“Well, I like it, so it’s okay, right?” Daddy said, smiling for himself.
“Yeah… I guess. I wish you wouldn’t have such an ugly job… I’m glad Mom bought a lot of washing powder.”
Daddy laughed.
We had a nice lunch, and we drove home early, listening to my favourite CD, the soundtrack of Wicked. I kept singing, smiling greatly, and Daddy tried sing with me, but he has such a funny voice that he kept failing and eventually, we started laughing. I jumped out of our car in front of our house, still laughing.
“Get inside, kiddo, gonna follow you a second later,” Daddy said. I nodded, and rushed towards the front door, feeling excited, because after a long, long day I was going to see my Mom’s pretty face, and I loved the way she smiled… No matter how short time we spent apart, I always missed that smile.
The door opened too easily, but I didn’t really care.
“Mom!” I shouted. “Mom, we’re home!”
Nobody answered.
I felt cautious by that second. I walked into the kitchen, because an awful smell was coming from there. I walked inside, and faced the most horrible sight I’ve ever seen. My muscles froze, and refused to react when my brain ordered them to move; my eyes were fixed on the blood.
Because there were so much blood. Just… So much. I didn’t know that much a person’s body could hold. I saw that her throat was nearly ripped to half… Or that her stomach was cut open, her intestines swirling out and frozen on the glazed tile.
“Kiddo?” Daddy just walked in, sounding a bit confused, as he saw me. “Kurt? Kurt, what’s wron-“
He dropped the paper bag he was holding, the food in it scattering all around the floor. He reached out for me, and covered my eyes, but it was too late: the sight of my murdered mother’s body burnt into my brain forever.

The coffin was closed. Obviously, they didn’t want anyone see that mess… I could understand that. It was really ugly. They made Mom ugly.
We could only bury her on the 1st of November. Kind of an ironic date, if you ask me. If there were space for any feelings besides shock and disbelief, I would’ve laughed.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” a woman said. Her name was Carole. She had a son at the same age as me. “It was quite shocking news to me. Everybody loved Elizabeth, so the fact that somebody killed her just because of her position at the local theatre… Well, I can’t really word my feelings.”
“Thank you,” Dad replied. His eyes looked to empty, like there was nobody in his body.
“And how’s Kurt?” the woman asked, flicking her gaze to me. I winced and looked away.
“He’s… I really don’t know. He was the one who saw… And I don’t really know how much that affected him. I mean, he’s not talking, he’s not eating, not doing anything at all, but doctors say it’s only natural. That it’ll wear off.”
“Just give the kid his time, okay?” Carole suggested, patting Dad’s shoulder. “He had really rough days.”
“I know. Thank you, Carole. For everything.”
“Burt, it’s okay. If you need any help, call me.”
Dad smiled a little, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
The ceremony wasn’t short; the priest kept talking and talking, going through the formalities. Mom was religious, so to speak, so Dad arranged the funeral in view of that. Halfway through it, Dad hugged me, holding my little body close to his. From the shaking of his shoulders, and his whole body, I could tell that he was crying. I didn’t look up to check it: my eyes were fixed on the coffin.
After a while, they lowered the coffin into the hole. Mom loved the lilies, so we all had one lily in our hands that we threw to the top of the coffin.
“I love you more than anything, sweetheart,” Dad mumbled, his voice shaking.
“See you soon,” I murmured, barely audible. When I looked up, after throwing the flower into the hole, my eyes met with Carole’s. Her gaze was fixed on me, and I couldn’t decide her tears were for my mother or for me. I thought she overheard me.
Everybody was crying. Even the ones who didn’t know Mom that well… They all cried. But not me.
I couldn’t cry on the funeral of my beloved mother.

I wasn’t surprised when Carole offered her help to Dad.
She was in the kitchen, cooking some kind of food. Her kid, Finn, was sitting in the living room, eyes focused on a stupid cartoon he was watching. Dad was in his room, sleeping because of that pill, Carole gave her.
I was sitting in Mom’s room, where she kept her dresses and books and things like that. Everything held her scent, and when I wrapped a dress around me, I imagined that she’d walk in, laugh tenderly and hug me. I hoped for that so desperately that I nearly shed a tear, but it didn’t come out.
It just couldn’t.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me, when I started considering sneaking out, but that was what I wanted. It was extremely easy to sneak out, because Carole wasn’t paying attention to me at all, Dad was sleeping and Finn was too much of a dumb person to notice. I took my bicycle from the garage, and before I knew I was cycling toward the cemetery, the dress still around me.
It was near to twilight, but I couldn’t see the sun setting, because of the huge clouds above me. While I cycled through the cemetery, I couldn’t take my eyes off the beautiful sight. Candles were flickering in the light breeze, but I could smell the snow coming. I don’t know how the snow smells though: it was just how we called it with Mom.
Now that my thoughts were directed to my lost mother, I could feel the heavy pressure on my chest, like a big stone was pushing the air out of me. I was lucky enough to reach my mother’s grave, because right at that moment, I fall down from my bicycle, and start to cry. Not cry, that sounds too soft. I scream like an animal, gripping on my chest so maybe I could ease the pain, but I couldn’t. Tears flowed down my face like little rivers, and I sobbed so hard that I nearly couldn’t breathe.
Before I could realize, I started to sing. Not really sing, because it didn’t have any kind of lyric, but it did sound like a song to me. A really painful one indeed: something like the animals would “sing”, if they lost their most precious person. Only that what I was singing was marvellous. At least that’s what Mom said to me every time she asked me to sing to her.
Soon rain started to fall. I couldn’t even bother to put my hood on. I was soaking wet in minutes, and I still continued to sing. I started shivering violently when the breeze turned to cold wind. I just sat at my mother’s grave, wailing because of the loss.
Hours were spent like that. After something like two hours, I noticed a flashlight sweeping over the graves. I pulled up close to the flowers on the grave, so I was positive they didn’t notice me. I wasn’t that lucky though. Soon I heard footsteps, I felt somebody embracing me, taking me up into his strong arms, and carrying me. After a while I felt something warm, I heard somebody starting up the engine, pulling out of the parking lot, and driving away.
After minutes that seemed like hours, we finally stopped somewhere, which surely was our house. The man, who was my father as I guessed, took into his arms again, and carried me inside.
“Oh my God,” somebody cried out. From the high-pitched voice of the person, I guessed it was Carole. “You found him!” That person came closer and put her arms around me. Probably a hug. “I was so worried about you, Kurt! Burt, I’m so, so, so sorry for not noticing it earlier!”
I could just see my father smile sadly. “It’s all okay now, Carole. I’ll take care of him. Can I ask you to leave?” It seemed a bit rude, considering that Carole let him have some hours of sleep; but on that note, it was Carole who didn’t look after me properly.
“Oh, okay,” Carole said. I could hear her walking away, probably getting the sleeping Finn up. “C’mon, sweetie, we need to go. Say bye to Mr. Hummel and Kurt.”
“Bye,” I heard a tired voice. Soon after the click of the door.
We were left alone.
Dad sighed and took me to the bathroom Mom loved to use. The scent of her products and perfumes hit me, and I could feel my eyes stinging with tears again. Dad put me down for some seconds, till he stripped me from my clothes, then put me into the bathtub, and opened the water. He then turned shower head on, and started showering my shivering body.
“You really scared me, Kurt,” he said. “I didn’t know where you were. I thought I lost you as well. Never do that to me again, okay, baby?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want you to feel like that.” I started to cry again. Burt leaned forward and hugged my wet, shivering body. I thought he started to cry as well.
He got me out of the shower, dried my body off, and walked me to my bedroom. As I looked at my bed, I realized I’d never be able to sleep in it… Mom used to sing me, when I was lying under the blankets.
“Dad, I can’t go to sleep here,” I mumbled.
“Any why’s that, kiddo?” he asked, and walked to my bed, trying to make it comfortable to me, but, of course, it wasn’t anything like Mom’s. I shook my head.
“I just can’t. Dad, I’m afraid I’ll dream,” I said hesitantly. “I don’t want to… See that again.”
Dad straightened up, and looked at me. He must’ve seen something, because he came back to me, and hugged my little body close to his.
“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered to my ear. “It’s all okay. I’ll chase those bed dreams away.”
But he couldn’t. Not when I lay next to him, eyes wide open, watching the walls getting soaked with blood.
My mother’s blood.