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The first thing I saw was multiple bloody shoeprints, my chin trembled and I inhaled deeply. I wiped my tears and moved further into our home.
Blood...
There was blood everywhere. As I got close to our living room I saw someone lying on the ground. By his uniform, I could tell that he was one of the household's help.
Then I saw it, for the first time in my life I saw a dead body with a hole in his chest, the blood still oozing out of it. Fear became a tangible, living force that crept over me like some hungry beast, immobilizing me; my brain, holding me captive.
I covered my mouth with both of my hands to muffle my loud cries. No, please, this can't be happening, please.
I took two small steps backward. Terror sucked the very breath from my mouth. Pulse beating in my ears, blocking out all other sounds even my own.
Panicking, I ran inside the living room, stepping over the bodies that were lying in my way. Bodies... bodies... so many dead bodies. I could not find the ones I was looking for. I hoped they were not among all these dead people. I hoped they were alive but I couldn't find them, I couldn't see them.
And then I tripped over something, landing on all fours. I looked up and saw my mother's dead eyes staring back at me. I couldn't scream. I could only open my mouth to find that even words had deserted me. I immediately shuffled closer to my mother's body.
Everything I ever knew and everyone I ever knew was laying right in front of me, in the pools of their own blood. I mumbled incoherent things through my hands and choked on my sobs.
With trembling and gentle hands, I held up my mother's head and put it on my lap. There were several bloodied holes in her chest and abdomen. I softly touched her cheek, a few hours ago, she had kissed me good night and now she was pale and so damn cold.
"Mom? Mom, please, talk to me! MOM! MOM, PLEASE!"
I screamed for her at the top of my lungs, but no matter how much I tried to talk to her, to wake her up, to let her know that here I was out of my room but she didn't listen. She didn't scold me or gave a reaction. She kept looking at the ceiling with her empty, dead eyes and her skin and lips were turning bluish-purple with each passing second.
Tears streamed down my face profusely and I made no effort to wipe them. My tears rained down on my mother's face but nothing seemed to bother her. I can't believe it, I refuse to believe that my mother had died. She can't! She just can't.
A streak of blood trailed down from the corner of her lips, I screamed, sobbed, and wailed but to no avail.
I need to save her, I need to save my mom. I gently placed her head down on the ground and ripped my dress from the bottom. I placed the piece of my dress over the giant gunshot wound over my mother's heart and it didn't help, instead, it got drenched in her blood as well.
