She was not well regarded when she re-entered the gates. Covered in blood, bruised, her face and expressions almost unrecognizable.

She saw the house from afar, the tractor and the clothesline, everything seemed so normal. She approached, subtly opening the kitchen door.

And there you were, putting some flowers in the vase, the baby on the floor coloring some leaves. Her entire hardened expression fell at the sight of you.

She wanted to stay silent, just watching you, but the knife fell out of her pocket with a clatter.