Mother please

"Ugh, why me?" I mused aloud, my voice barely a whisper in the quiet night. A chilling thought crossed my mind, "Should I just...no, no, who even thinks like that? I must be going crazy." I coughed, the cold air stinging my throat, before making my way back to the balcony.

I stared at the cold marble floor, its icy surface reflecting the dim moonlight. My gaze then shifted to the long path that led to the mansion's entrance, a path that seemed to stretch into infinity. "I wonder what everyone would do if I jumped from here...would they even care?" I pondered, the thought sending a shiver down my spine.

My attention was then drawn to the rusty dagger in my hand. "Oh, I didn't realize it was getting rusty," I blurted out, my fingers tracing the worn-out blade. I tried to scratch off the rust, but it was stubborn, much like the problems that seemed to cling to me.

"Wait, whose car is that? Please, don't tell me he's already here..." I pleaded, my gaze fixed on the car door as it swung open. Out stepped my father, his face bearing an unusual expression of annoyance and his cheeks flushed red. It looked like he had just had an argument, a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes suddenly flicked towards me, causing me to twitch in surprise. In a swift motion, I stuffed the dagger back into my pocket.

"Oh, you're back...hah," I blurted out, forcing a wide smile onto my face. But it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when he spoke.

"Get down, we need to talk," he commanded, his gaze shifting to the small puddle of blood that was slowly trickling down the drain. Upon spotting the puddle, his eyes darted back to me, his expression hardening into a stern glare. His mouth twisted into a grimace as he barked, "Get down now; show me your hand."

The tone of his voice left no room for argument.

The tone of his voice left no room for argument. I knew I had to face him, no matter how much I dreaded what was to come. But one thing was clear - this was not going to be a pleasant conversation. I braced myself for the storm that was about to come.

At his words, I swiftly retrieved the dagger, placing it quietly on the floor and nudging it out of sight with my foot. I descended from the balcony with haste, but paused at the entrance, met with a chilling stare. "D O N 'T . D A R E . S T E P . I N S I D E," my mother mouthed, her lips curling into a crooked smile as she glanced at my father. His gaze was fixed on my blood-stained shirt, his expression unreadable.

"Come in," he commanded calmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"NO, don't come," my mother's eyes widened in anger as I took a step forward. She lunged towards me, attempting to push me back, but was halted by my father's outstretched hand. It seemed he was trying to maintain a semblance of calm amidst the chaos.

"Why, what did you do?" He swiveled towards me, his hand still extended. Mother's eyes were as wide as saucers, silently imploring me to keep my lips sealed. It was glaringly apparent that she was attempting to shield Ye-Sol, conveniently pinning her misdeeds on me.<

"Ah, so..." I began, my eyes narrowing at Mother's lips which were still silently articulating words. "Our dear Ye-Sol was engaged in a rather risqué photoshoot in the bathroom. Upon discovering this, I decided to intervene. Mother overheard the commotion, arrived at the scene, and promptly evicted us both. However, someone decided to escort her back in, and...well, that's the long and short of it," I concluded, a mischievous glint in my eyes, my hands nonchalantly tucked behind my back.

"Ah," Father murmured, his head tilting slightly as he peered into mother's soul, his hand still outstretched. Mother tentatively grasped it, then gradually loosened her grip, subtly retreating a step.

"Get to your room and change," he commanded.

"Oh, I don't have a...room," I retorted, my smile broadening, eyes squinted in feigned innocence.

"I couldn't care less. Get changed; we're heading out. And refrain from such reckless behaviour in the future, or I'll ensure you're incapable of repeating it," he blurted out, shooting a stern glance at mother.

"A burst of laughter escaped my lips as I reached the summit of the grand staircase, a sound that echoed eerily in the vast emptiness. 'Why are they all like this?' I pondered, my eyes rolling skyward in a mix of amusement and exasperation. My expression morphed swiftly, the mirth fading into something more somber, more contemplative.

Every time I ventured into the left wing of the mansion, an inexplicable chill would creep up my spine, making my heart pound like a frantic drum against my ribcage. The mansion wasn't haunted, at least not in the traditional sense. Yet, an icy shiver always seemed to grip me, a cold that seeped into my bones and made my teeth chatter in silent dread.

As I stepped into the dimly lit corridor, a lullaby began to play in the recesses of my mind. It wasn't just any lullaby, but the one my sister used to sing in her soft, melodious voice before her untimely demise. The haunting melody, a ghost of a memory, was a constant reminder of her absence. I should've grown accustomed to it by now, but the truth was, it was a reality I found hard to accept. The notes of the lullaby, once comforting, now echoed in the hollow chambers of my heart, a poignant reminder of the light that had been extinguished too soon."