Finding his lost demon

My breath had started to hitch momentarily, as I was conscious of how my breathing was starting to become so ragged. My heart gave way to constrictions and uneven palpitations on a different level, as it threatened to rip the walls of the sternum protecting my fragile heart apart. I could feel bile rising very fast up to my buccal cavity. its taste as bitter as the vile heart of man. The mere sight of my Mum sprawled on the tiled floor gave me the shivers. Her blood seeping all the way to the beige Persian rug spread in our ante-room, making it seem like it was a wine-feast the night before. Being oblivious of who the killer could be threw me into a crazy frenzy, it was like being submerged into a deep coated delirium only leaving you wasted like a drunken courtesan that had partied all night long. My first suspicion was that it wouldn't be beyond one of the dreadful works of my step-father whom she had been co-habiting with even after I had vehemently protested against the idea. This particular action she took really caused a serious strain in our mother-daughter relationship. After that day she broke the news to me of wanting to marry him, I felt betrayed and lied to all my life. It seemed like the whole perfect tiny world we had built together and the memories we both shared were just mere jokes to her. Mother didn't deem it fit to ask my opinion as regards the so-called arranged marriage she had all along planned in her head. I practically grew up without a father, mum told me he died a day to when she was to be delivered of me at Theresa Markinch hospital. That was the hospital I grew to know.The times I battled with flu and diphtheria, and almost lost my life from being knocked down by a crane, the hospital always came through. Mother worked as a nurse there, she was payed heavily owing to the fact that she was able to  joggle from one shift to the other day in day out. My mum's story of the circumstances surrounding my father's death was not so detailed and It so much sounded like an abridged version. She would often shun me whenever I kept nudging her to give me a full account of the story, and as always she would stare at me adamantly like she was about spacing out. Mum wasn't one to go deep into giving details about stuff. She only tells what she feels you should know and supposedly the rest could wait or rather they aren't pegged so important to be divulged. That's Olivia Heather;my mother for everyone. She was never a weaver of words, just a very abrupt dialogue and she was done speaking. I  remember quite vividly how she had met Martin;my step-father. I was sixteen and about clocking seventeen the following month at the time. Hitherto, I was solely enjoying my mum's company, especially the whole love she was always eager to offer. I had no competition when it came to being given attention, so I was always the one on the receiving end. Unlike other "only child" kinda children, who would keep bugging their parents with the question of "when they'd have a sibling " It was funny how on my own part, I never for once wished to have any sibling or even think of adding an 's' to it. I loved it the way it was, solely ME. My prayers started going haywire when the angels must have forgotten to shut the gates of heaven, which resulted to the very situation I found myself in that very day.      *********** On that fateful day, a thud of waterfall accompanied with the strong wind that could be compared to a hurricane. The street lights were swinging from side to side, the trees were not left out. The roofs of the building down our street were threatening to tear apart. Cars had come to an instant halt and looking out from my room through the window which was adjacent to our penthouse, I could see people hurriedly parking and alighting from their cars to take cover. Some faces that I couldn't recognise which obviously meant that they were just moving by, came to seek shelter from the houses across the street. Whether they were let in or not, I was least concerned. Almost when the rain seemed to have stopped, I jolted from the incessant rapping and tapping on the door of the kitchen downstairs. Whoever that was knocking was definitely family, which was none other than mom;she was the only family I knew. Come to think of it, it wasn't normal for a visitor to deliberate on coming in through the back door of a person's house. Coming back to my awkward reality after spacing out for like the umpteenth time since that day, I dashed down the stairways also having it in mind not to miss a step. Finally arriving at the kitchen door, I did not bother asking who it was owing to my earlier conclusion I had made mentally. I slid the locks off its hinges, while the door knob gave way as it gave a gentle dry click. I peered through the half parted door expecting to see my mum drenched or something, only for me to see her with an unfamiliar person. The man now standing next to her shivering like he was about to lose it, while supporting closely his entire weight on her shoulder. I found that sight quite amusing, because I was surprised at how mum was not already on the floor owing to the man  looking way bigger than my petite mom. He had very nice features for a man his age, with his chiseled jaw that could be compared to that of Adonis, that was his most striking feature.He had manly, peppered stubble that looked that they were forcibly trying to sprout all the way out. His Mohican cut and scythe-shaped eyebrows were glistening with the raindrop from before. His Roman nose and half-dome cheekbones sat above an oaken jaw. His wrestler’s shoulders were part of his burly physique. He held onto her with a tiger like tread and his nomad-blue eyes kept on twinkling the almost dark room.   My thoughts trailed and wandered all over the place to the extent that I had forgotten I was still in their way.  Olivia not looking in my direction barely more than a second, moved past me with the stranger or so I thought. Something caught my attention, "blood" The man she had brought was dripping blood as he rested on her for support. Why I never noticed this at first is something I could not really seem to wrap my fingers around on. Maybe it was because my ten year old self was so much of an overthinker.    That night, we all sat at the dinning room having our dinner. My eyes couldn’t help but keep darting towards Mark's direction, I was trying to find the wound I had seen earlier, but it seemed like mum had already dressed his wound. He was looking better now, though I noticed how he  wasn't able to take his eyes off his food, he kept staring down like he was going to find some brain in there.   The whole dinning area was stiff with a defeaning silence, only the clattering of the cutleries could be heard. Halfway into the meal, mum started to clear her throat signifying she had something to say. She always did that whenever she wanted to tell me something important. A decision she was mostly likely to make, and I thought to myself that this was most likely the moment. The moment of awareness. “I have something to tell you meatballs” Olivia blurted out. She always called me meatballs. That was a pet-name. Not like I loved meatballs or ate a lot of it, It was just a name that propped up. During one the halloween nights I was part of in my 4th grade, I had requested for a meat ball costume so that earned me the name “Meatballs”