Shadows of my past “continued ”

The night everything changed, I was in the kitchen when I heard it. A struggle, muffled voices. I rushed toward the sound, my heart pounding. By the time I got to the living room, it was too late.

John had killed her.

She lay there, lifeless on the floor, her blood staining the carpet.

And John? He stood over her, his face twisted in an expression of satisfaction, but his eyes… his eyes were filled with something darker. He’d always believed that my mother was responsible for my father’s death, that she had killed him.

He spoke through clenched teeth, his voice low and cold. “Your mother killed your father, Chloe. I’ve waited years for this moment.”

I didn’t hesitate. I picked up the knife from the kitchen counter, still warm from where he had dropped it earlier. Without thinking, I lunged at him. He laughed, a harsh, manic sound that echoed through the room.

“You think you can stop me now?” he taunted.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

I drove the knife into him, again and again, the anger, the fear, the pain all spilling out with each strike. It felt like hours, though it could have been mere minutes.

When it was over, John was gone.

But so was my mother.

My legs buckled, and I collapsed onto my knees beside her. I wanted to cry, to scream, to undo it all but no sound came. Only a hollow ache deep in my chest. I had spent years hating her, resenting her for ignoring the truth about John. But now that she was gone, all I could feel was the crushing weight of her absence.

I reached out with a shaking hand, brushing a strand of hair from her pale, lifeless face. “Mom…” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

John’s words echoed in my head, sinister and taunting. Your mother killed your father, Chloe.

Was it true? Could it be true?

I forced myself to look at him, at the man who had torn my life apart. His body lay twisted on the bloodstained floor, his once-mocking eyes now empty and lifeless. He had wanted revenge. He had wanted to make her pay.

And now, they were both dead.

I felt sick. The walls were closing in faster. I needed to get out. I needed to leave before the weight of what I’d done crushed me completely.

I sank into the chair, my eyes vacant as I stared through the window. Five years had passed since I had fled. Five years since I had left behind everything my name, my family, my past. I had run, escaped the bloodshed, the ghosts of my mother and John, but no matter how far I ran, the memories would never leave.

I could still hear their voices. I could still feel the weight of that cold night the blood, the struggle, the final breath of my mother as it left her body. I could still see John’s face as he lay there, lifeless, his eyes staring up at me, his last words seared into my memory.

“Your mother killed your father, Chloe. I’ve waited years for this moment.”

I had killed him. I had killed both of them. And yet, the more I tried to forget, the more it lingered, like a curse I couldn’t outrun. No matter how far I ran, the shadows of the past had a way of following

The new city had been my refuge. A fresh start at least, that’s what I told myself. I had changed my name, my identity. The life I’d built wasn’t real, not entirely. It was a patchwork of lies, a mask I wore to shield myself from the truth.

No one here knew who I really was. No one knew what I had done.

But one day, the past came knocking.

The letter was simple, unmarked, no return address. The kind of letter that chills your spine before you even open it. My hands trembled as I tore the envelope. Inside, a letter. In my father’s handwriting. My heart pounded as I read it aloud, the words piercing through me like daggers.

Chloe,

If you’re reading this, then I’m gone. And if you’re reading this, it means my worst fears were true. Your mother killed me. She was having an affair with John, and when I discovered it, she took my life to protect her secret. She framed him for my death, sent him away to the mental hospital to rot in silence. You were too young to understand, but now you must know the truth. You must know who your mother really was.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. But now you know.

I love you, always.

The words echoed in my mind. I felt the ground beneath me shift, like I was losing my grip on everything I thought I had known.

People always say you can never outrun the past, that you’ll never get away with what you did.

I guess I rewrote that history. I did get away with it.

But that letter, the confirmation of everything I had killed for, shattered whatever peace I had tried to build. I thought I had escaped, that I could move on. But the truth had followed me, just as John’s ghost had. And now, it was staring me in the face.

I leaned back in the chair, letting the weight of the moment crash over me. The life I had built here, the false name, the false identity it didn’t matter. It would never matter.

The past would never let me go.

I had killed them both, and now, I was left to live with it Alone.

The end .