The Baddest of Them All

Tragedy

Constance's POV *

7 years ago...

There was a knock downstairs. I knew mother was taking a nap. I sighed and got up.

I quickly made my way downstairs and opened the door.

" Oh. Hi Mrs. White. How may I help you?" I asked.

" Hi gorgeous. I was wondering if your mother was around?" She asked, a smile on her face.

" Uh sorry. She's sleeping." I answered.

" Oh okay. When she wakes up, tell her I'll miss her and that I'll call whenever I can." She said, her smile turning into a sad one.

" Where are you going?" I asked. Curiosity got the best of me.

" I'm moving states for a while." She answered.

" Oh. Well I hope you have fun." I smiled.

" Thank you honey. Tell your father I said bye." She said, turning to leave.

" Bye!" I called out before I shut the door.

I went upstairs and knocked on my parents bedroom door.

When nobody answered, I peered in.

Mother was still sleeping but something caught my eye.

I walked further into the room and looked at her arm.

It was hanging from the bed.

There was bruises. But it looked like something bit her repeatedly on different parts of her arm.

I didn't hear my father calling after me. I was too engrossed on trying to figure out why my mother had those bruises.

" Trinity." Father said, his voice close.

I finally looked up when I felt him looking at me.

He stared at me and mother in disbelief.

Just then, mother decided to wake up.

She looked around, her eyes finding my shocked ones then shifted to fathers furious ones.

" What do you think you're doing Devor?!" He yelled, making me and mother flinch.

She sat up and backed up until she hit the headboard.

" Constance." He said.

I flinched, a pain in my chest shot through me.

He called me by my first name, not Trinity.

" Go to your room." He said, his eyes remained on mother.

I stood there, silent. Shocked.

Scared.

" I said go to your room." He growled.

I held back tears as I looked at mother.

But she looked just as frightened as me.

I backed away as her eyes looked at me, her pleading eyes.

Her guilty eyes.

I ran out of the room. I couldn't stand being in there. The air was suffocating.

I stayed by the stairs as I listened to them argue and argue. More like my father yelling at mother.

She barley defended herself.

I guess there was no use.

When father wants to get his point across, he gets it across. He won't stop until he does.