AB-18

Chapter 3

Immediately, the boy saw the grand painting of a wolf. It had soft, long, white hair with dazzling, confusing purple eyes. He has never seen this painting in his life before but he does remember his parents loving this type of wolves.

He was in the kitchen. It was normal enough. It had everything a kitchen should have. The only thing odd about it is probably his mum's bright red diary sitting on the sleek black counter in all its glory. He ignored it and moved on.

He came into the main room and his parents were in there. They were both lying on the big leather sofa. They looked so pale. He ran up to them. He wanted to wake them up and ask them what had happened. He wanted to hug them and kiss them. He wanted their delicate touches to tell him that he's safe. He wanted their promises and affection. He wanted them to just love him as he remembered but clearly he didn't have that type of luck.

They were dead. He knew this because they wouldn't wake up or even stir. He began crying. He yelled at them to wake up. He needed them. "Mum, Dad, please wake up. I need you. What happened? WAKE UP!"  He exclaimed desperately.

They were dead and he couldn't believe it. His mum. His dad. The two people who have always been with him. The people he had always trusted. True they were poor and they couldn't buy him everything but that didn't matter because they are his parents. Well, were his parents. He had never cried so much before.

He stayed there for half an hour. He didn't know how they died or why. His confusion grew to a whole new level. And his anger; his anger was indescribable. He wanted to know who did this to his parents but what could he do. After all, he was only 13 years old.

Once he stopped crying, he dried his cheeks and went to the kitchen. He was thirsty. He came in but before he went to the sink, the kids' eyes lingered on his mum's diary. He got his water and downed the liquid as if he had never drunk water before.

The cold flow of water went viciously down his burning throat like a waterfall. He felt so refreshed. He thought for a moment. 'What if her diary has information? Answers maybe? Would it be OK if I looked in it?' He started a mental debate on whether he should or shouldn't read his dead mum's diary.

He suddenly walked towards the book. He had to look inside it. What if it DID have information? It could help the poor child out. He reached out for it but then he began having second thoughts. 'Would I like what I find in there? Would mum want me to look inside her secrets? But... no. I need to know everything I can find out and the best thing to do would be to look in mum's diary.' That was his thoughts before he found out the dreadful truth.