NaPoWriMo 4: Roses

In your haste to escape, you forgot to sign the note.

The note you left on your door.

The simple act of writing your name would've been such a slight comfort. 

Yet they'd have cherished it.

As your last recognition of life.

But no, there wasn't time.

Mom would be coming home soon.

Dad was already leaving the office.

And it had to be done alone.

And soon, so soon.

Where'd you get the gun, anyway?

No matter, it got the job done.

They still can't get the blood out of the carpet. 

Nor can they get the image out of their minds.

You, lying in a pool of roses and smiling contentedly.

You thought you were unloved. 

How could you have been so wrong?

You've broken their hearts.

a.d. (the effects of hate)