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                      P R O L O G U E

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                      P R O L O G U E

I was sitting in my room, with my easel facing towards me. All my paintbrushes and sketch pens were scattered on the floor. It's been almost two hours, I was trying to paint the alluring scenery outside my window.

The slanting rays of the setting sun gave rise to an orange tint in the sky. Long shadows were cast on the grasses leading to my window. The birds were chirping cheerfully, returning home. The view was pretty alluring to me, so I tried to remember this scenery on the handmade paper.

As the warm wind started to hit my face, I took my paintbrush and was giving the finishing touches to what seemed like a masterpiece to me. I began by filling in the missing spots with shades of blended red and orange on the paper. The sap green went to cover the dark patches in trees. And last but not the least, the sun in the corner of my page was painted bright yellow with shades of orange.

The aroma of food flowed through my nostrils, making me hungry. Mom was cooking dinner downstairs. After adjusting the blue colour of the pond, I detached it from the paper, running to show my mom what I have been working on the past two hours.

Holding the painting behind my back, trying to block the view from my mom. I grinned when my mom looked at me. "Sweetie, why are you hiding your painting? Let me see the beautiful scenery my daughter worked so hard on." Smiling proudly on hearing the compliment my mom said, I pulled out the painting and held it in front of her with both of my hands.

"Honey that's so beautiful!", my mom exclaimed. "It's so lifelike, you outdid yourself baby! I'm so proud of you" Proud of you. It is something I always wanted to hear from my mom. Making my mother proud was always my priority. Whether it be by drawing or by getting an A+ on my mark sheet. She isn't like that mom who compares her child and pressurizes her to do her best, instead, she's the biggest supporter I could ever have. Every time I did something creative, a smile would gleam on her face. That's all I ever wanted.

"Come on baby, dinner's ready! And guess what it's your favorite spaghetti and meatballs" Hugging my mom around her legs, I cheered happily, "Yay! Thank you, mom!"

~

"Mom! Look I drew a picture of you and me!" I screamed from the dining hall. She hastily came to the dining hall, taking a look at my drawing. I drew my mom in a bright red gown, with frills flowing down to her knees. She had her signature red lipstick and carried her favorite purse. Holding her hands, I was in my favorite Mickey mouse t-shirt and sneakers on. Beneath us, I wrote in my cursive handwriting.

My mom and I.

"This is so beautiful honey. ", she said as tears glistened in her eyes. "Thank you, mom! But why are you crying? I don't like it when you cry." Rubbing the slightest drop of tear on her cheek, she said, "No baby, these are the tears of happiness, you did a really good job. I am so proud of you my baby girl!"

Proud. That's all I ever wanted my mom to be.

In the middle of my enthusiasm, all of a sudden, a huge bomb blast bursted through my ears. In a split second, the fire broke out, glaring at us. White hot flames shimmered through fierce yellow into burnt orange inched closer to us each second. The acrid smell of fire began passing through my lungs making it immensely hard for me to breathe.

My mom was shouting something repeatedly at me, but I could not hear a thing because my ears were still ringing due to the blast. The dining hall was beginning to get filled with pungent smoke and it was choking me due to my neglected asthma. Abruptly, my mom picked me up in her arms and began running towards the back door.

I held tightly onto the drawing of my mom and I as she fled across the giant living area. On reaching the back door, my mom swung the door open, and just as she was about to step outside the burning house, a tall and broad man stood in front of us

He was wearing a black shirt and had a black balaclava on. He had the darkest eyes which screamed evil and hatred toward us. The man's eyes trailed up and down towards my mom and he spoke, "Where do you think your fleeing Sophia?" How does he know my mom's name? "Mom! who is this guy? Is this the bad guy?" I shouted. "Don't come any closer to me and my kid!", she screamed, her voice breaking in between. "Or what? You're gonna kill me?", he said in his rugged voice.

He was creeping closer to us with each passing second and my mom kept backing away from him. My hands and feet were running cold. I could not do anything to save my mom. The fire glaring behind us stopped us to back any further. He pulled out his knife from his jacket and smacked my mom across her face. I tumbled hard on the ground across the room, the moment he hit my mom.

"MOM!!"

I screamed with all of my power. My knee was slashed due to the knife in his hand. Hence, I could not get up to help my mom. My mom. Blood was pouring out from her cheek. Tears streamed down her eyes. "Run honey!! Run!! Run and don't look back!"

"No mom! I will not leave you here!! Mom!!" I started crying. "Listen to your mom baby, run! It's not safe here!!", she shrieked. "Mom I am not leaving you here!!" I began standing up on my knee and started crawling towards her. "Shut your nonsense talk!" Pulling out a gun he aimed at my mom's forehead. "NO MOM!!", tears were flowing down my face at the sight of my mom.

"Baby!! I need you to listen to mom! Run from here!! I love you so much honey, whatever you do, your mom will always be proud of you!"

The bullet punched through her forehead, gaping a hole with blood gushing out of it. I ran towards mom and held her in my tiny arms. She fell on the ground, scattered by her own blood. I looked at my mom, when slowly and steadily, my mom's big doe eyes shut peacefully. The lifeless body of my mom rested in front of my eyes. In my arms.

"I love you mom, and I will always make you proud," I whispered.

Clutching on to the drawing of my mom and I.

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