When we arrived, my father was lashing and crying and shouting profanities at the walls. He had a pained expression on his face and I didn’t know what was worse: my mom having bruises or my dad agonizing over his dead mother.
I never felt any familial love with my grandmother which surged a prickly anger towards my chest. Seeing my mother tattered in bruises was far worse than the inevitable death of my grandma. She died because of old age, not because anything.
“What happened here?” I asked with my voice slightly raised. My eyes gave a sharp glare to my father, albeit they were identical to mine. He sobered himself up after breaking down whilst my mother rocked herself back and forth, tending the bruises tattooed around her body.
“What did you do to her?” I questioned demandingly, walk
