Prologue
Whack!
The sound echoes through my ears, a constant reminder of what I saw that day.
I remember leaving bed and walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. I can even recall turning the corner from the dining room and stopping dead in my tracks.
There was so much blood.
So.
Much.
Blood.
Whack!
Lenny’s arm came back again as he slammed a cleaver through my mother’s chest. Blood spurted from the wound and onto his arms. He seemed unfazed by the atrocity he was committing; his hands moved methodically over the skin, and his eyes never wavered from her face. Yet I stood barefoot in the kitchen, my eyes watering, afraid to cry out. He didn’t know I was there. He had no clue I was watching, frozen in place.
I was thirteen, fearful, unsure whether to stay or flee.
Whack!!
He tossed an arm to the side and began on the other.
I tried to focus on her face, but her eyes were open and staring at me as if pleading for me to save her. How could I save a mother I didn’t know? How could I when I knew she was gone?
I felt my lip quiver as I watched his arm return for another blow. I closed my eyes as a splatter of my mother’s blood collided with my face. Only then did Lenny pull his eyes away from the body and turn to face me.
