Effortlessly, I start to trace my steps back to the hole my backpack is stuffed into. My bare feet mindlessly crash against the cold earth as I reach the area that’s still stiff with the stale odor of blood. The mid-morning sun blares against my skin through the forest leaves. An easy task since some of the leaves have started to fall, leaving small gaps in the treetops.
I’m close.
My pace slows to a walk as my eyes fall onto the blood-stained ground. A place that my life spiraled out of control. Looking at the scene like a spectator looking in is. . .horrifying.
Large pools of blood scatter freely across the forest floor from where my mom dropped, to the moment I dragged her onto my lap. Some of the thicker puddles still appear wet and sticky toward the middle while the thin outside of
