My fingers are starting to freeze. The suffering is my indecisive nature. My body feels like its chilled through about to reach my core. And yet, there’s nothing I’d rather do less than having to make the choice to open my door. Except making the decision to walk away. Telling my mother her suspicions were correct. I don’t know what I know, but I know she cant be trusted. Could the text be from her? A test of my loyalty? Or maybe showing how easily I can be swayed by anonymous whispers? She’ll be done with her “work” soon. Whatever it is that keeps her obsessed with her “office”. Nothing is real with her. I know this. I hear movement inside and dive to the bushes. My body hates it but my mind tells me its safer than her. Gears start moving in my head as panic spikes. “Do not go home.” Does it mean inside or the entire property? Am I already too late?

The door opens. There she is. Uptight and anxious as always. She stares straight forward. Seemingly oblivious to my presence.

“Sweetheart, come inside,” she says in a suspiciously gentle way. My eyes widen with fear. There she stands, still, and unwavering. Staring straight into the distance as if I’m not there. I hear shaking of the trees in the distance. ‘A different sweetheart?’ my mind whispers terrified.