September had just ended, and the cold weather was settling in for good.

Max opened his wardrobe and took out a heavy military green jacket covered with wool on the inside.

He heard something rattling and falling, and his heart skipped a beat.

Max threw the jacket aside and searched his wardrobe frenetically.

The urn with his mother’s ashes was still standing and was intact. Their family photograph, on the other hand, had fallen flat.

Max picked it up. The glass wasn’t broken; everything was fine.

The boy looked at the picture one last time before putting it back in place.

It showed a smiling woman sitting on a hospital bed while holding a baby in her arms; next to her was a strong-looking man in a military uniform sitting on a stool; he was also holding a baby that looked just like the first one.

~Flash-back~

Max opened the door to the apartment where he lived with his mother and brother.

“Mom, we’re home!” he announced, but no one answered. “huh, maybe she went to buy groceries?”

“I don’t think so,” said the brother, “her jacket is in the coat hanger.”

“Maybe she’s sleeping?” He left his backpack by the sofa bed that he shared with his brother and entered the only bedroom in the small apartment. “Seems like she left us a note.”

“Hey, do you smell iron?”

“A little bit,” he picked up the note from his mother’s bed. “Maybe she forgot her jacket? I mean, she’s not here.”

“Hey mom!” the other boy called, knocking on the bathroom door. “She’s not taking a shit either.”

“David.” He called in a repressive tone.

“Cock, pussy, fuck, motherfucker, Hitler!” he yelled.

“Stop!”

“No.” David inhaled deeply and started screaming like a banshee.

“Goddamnit, David!” he said, covering his ears.

“Oh! That’s a swear, I’m telling mom!” he said, pointing at him while covering his mouth in a theatrical shock. 

“I’m… Whatever…” Max opened the note he found on the bed and read it.

His mind was washed by a wave of confusion, then fear, then denial and grief, and anger.

“Max…” he heard his brother call cautiously. 

“What?!” Max snapped, looking back.

His brother was inside the small bathroom staring at something.

“David, there’s nothing… forget it.” he sighed.

“Call an ambulance!” he yelled, reaching for something “She’s still alive!”

“What? Holy shit!” he let go of the note when he saw his brother putting an arm over his shoulders, and rushed to help him.

They managed to carry their unconscious mother onto her bed.

“I’ll patch her up!” David said, fetching the bandages from the bathroom’s cabinet.

“I…” Both her wrists were slashed open, and blood was flowing freely out of the wounds, painting the bed red.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?! Go call an ambulance, goddamnit!” his younger brother yelled, leaning next to their mother.

But Max kept staring at his mother. Oh God, there was just so much blood.

“Max! Wake up and do something!” his brother ordered, shaking him by the shoulders, but Max was completely paralyzed in shock.

~End of the flash-back~

Max snapped back into reality, hearing his cat meowing. She was snuggling against his leg and purring. Max closed the wardrobe and patted her on the head.

He didn’t hide those things in the back of the closet just because. It was just too much. They just made him feel watched, and if he over thought about them, he would find himself having flashes of his mother’s corpse lying on her bed. But he also couldn’t bring himself to get rid of them. They were just too important. What was a boy to do? 

“Thank you. I have to go now, but I’ll give you a treat later, Ok?”

She meowed in compliance.