I remember my parent’s house vividly.

I remember the living room especially; it was a lovely shade of blue with white nature paintings on each wall.

I also remember the picture frames. There were a lot of them covering an entire wall, with my parent’s wedding picture right in the centre.

I remember other things too.

I remember the day my mother bled to death on the glistening white tiles after one of my father’s drunken assaults.

I remember his drunken breath on my neck on those cold, dark nights.

I remember, as I pull the trigger on his head.


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