It hit her before she walked in the house, the smell, the aroma, the accent mark. It was a familiar scent, but she just could not place it. Flashes of scenes streamed across her mind, trying to remember. As she got closer to the stairs, the scent became more pungent, stinging her nostrils. Where she knew it from was on the tip of her tongue. She kept replaying and replaying as she climbed the stairs. She was getting closer and closer to remembering.
The sound of the front door startled her. It was her son. He said ‘hi’ and headed straight for the kitchen. Her worst fear had been realized. She continued up the stairs, holding her breath, praying that it could not be true, praying that she was wrong. But how could she be wrong? Her son was downstairs. She got to the top of the stairs, and then she heard it; the sound that she had been dreading.
As she walked closer and closer to the room, the noise became louder and louder. She realized that the sound was her heartbeat. She began to sweat and shake, her legs becoming weak, almost dropping to her knees. Her breathing increased with each step. She put her hand on the knob. She knew what she was about to walk into and for the life of her, she had prayed she’d never become one of those women.
She turned the knob and opened the door. Looking around the room, everything was in order, but she still heard the noise and the scent was as violent to her noise as ever. She dropped her purse on the chair at the end of their bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. When she came around the corner, she walked upon the most horrid sight…
To Be Continued!
Check back tomorrow for part 2!