The winter chill blew through me as I half sped walk, half ran to my house.
Away from all the noise and business of the city, it was almost as if the suburbs of New York City were tucked away in their own little world. The streets here were always so empty, especially during the winter time when all the trees looked like nothing more than giant sticks attached to each other. Usually the crunching of the dead leaves underneath my feet relaxed me, but today, it only made me more tense.

"So this is where you moved to," Mark broke the silence in the air as he looked around. "This is...so much different from California."
"Well duh," I responded, sighing and watching my breath materialize in the air. "Anything that looked or felt like Cali was completely out of the question so my mom chose a place that was completely different. You know...like a fresh start type thing."
"Was it hard?" his hand found its way into mine. I closed my fingers around it, finding it to calm me down just a tad bit.
"Was what hard?"
"Starting over. In a totally new place where you don't really know anybody."
"That's what you had to do too right?"
"Yeah, but I wasn't recovering from an abusive father who shipped his own daughter to the emergency room."

Images of that night flashed in my head.
I winced unconsciously, trying to turn my head and hide it from Mark but he already saw my face scrunch up.

"Sorry," He leaned over while we were walking and planted a quick kiss on the side of my face. "I talk too much don't I?"
I shook my head, "It's not your fault. I've been like this ever since that day. Don't worry about it, I'll be fine."

But honestly, I wasn't fine.
The closer we got to my house, the colder it became. I wanted to run in the opposite direction and just pretend like none of this happened, but I was so done with trying to run away from reality.

"We're here," I looked up at my house, remembering all the good times my mom and I had. Life without my dad was always happier...and brighter.
"You ready?"
I found myself nodding my head when every part of me was shaking. The windows were dark and it looked like nobody was home, except for the car parked out front. Slowly, I made my way to the front door, pushing the key in and turning the lock. The door opened with a loud click. Mark propped it open with his arm as I stepped in quietly. I had no idea if this crazy, sorry excuse for a father was still in here, but I didn't want to make any loud noises just in case he was.

Every time the floor board creaked underneath my feet, I cringed a little bit. The house was on the old side, but it never used to creak this much. And mom usually always keeps the living room spotless, so why were there pillows thrown everywhere?
I turned around and found Mark in the kitchen, picking up pieces of a broken bowl. The food that was meant to be in there remained abandoned on the floor. Everything that was suppose to be on the coffee table next to me was scattered around the living room, as if someone had swept them all off and kicked them around. Picture frames were either knocked over or hung crookedly off the wall.

"Uhhhh, ______________," Mark pointed at an open drawer. The third one from the left.
The knife drawer.
It was wide open.
"Oh my gosh," my eyes grew big as my breathing accelerated.
"Calm down," he rushed to my side, placing both of his hands on my shoulders. "We don't know what happened exactly yet. Don't jump to conclusions."
"But the knife drawer is open! What else is that suppose to mean?"
"We don't even know if anyone actually grabbed a knife!" his voice echoed around the room, amplifying it more. "For all we know, one of them could've accidentally opened it while they were fighting."

I nodded just to make him feel better, but I knew that it wasn't an accident.
Nothing was ever an accident when it came to my dad.

"Let's go check upstairs," he pulled my hand along as he walked down the hallway and up the stairs. When we reached the top, the only thing I could see was my mom's room.
Completely in ruins.

All the sheets had been thrown off the bed and even the mattress had been overturned. My mom's dresser looked like a hurricane had gone through it with all the drawers hanging off of the frame and everything that had been sitting on top thrown onto the ground. Clothes were laying in heaps on the ground with a few pieces scattered here and there around the room.

I walked in the room as if there was a bomb in there ready to explode.
Every step I took actually required me to put in some effort.
Mark walked over the other side of the bed that was closests to the window while I went into the walk in closet.

The second I the light, my legs gave out and my breath caught in my throat.
My mom was laying there on the ground, blood running from her head and down her face. Her face was bruised and beaten up and a big gash was visible on her lower abdomen area.

Then when I finally caught my breath, I screamed, letting the tears fall endlessly down my face.

Author's Note
chapter title: Disturbance-BoA [x]