"Are you reluctant to share these feelings with your family?"I thought about telling the truth but ultimately decided not to."No. However, my impulses are no longer very strong. Our sessions have really helped me, Doctor Elliot." I said with a beaming smile. I was aware that Dr Elliot was, despite all her education and qualifications, unaware and inattentive. I pitied her. Dr. Elliot smiled. “Well, that concludes our session today! See you next week." I returned home and walked down the long path to my house. I looked at the tire marks in the soft dirt and noticed that they weren't those of a vehicle I recognized. However, I continued towards my house. As I approached the front door, I saw that it was slightly ajar. I opened it and found the foyer floor splattered with blood. Panic began to rise in me as I began to understand what it meant. Cautiously, I ventured into the kitchen to find a pool of blood so large that whoever it belonged to could not have survived losing so much. I wondered which member of my family this puddle belonged to. I reached into my bag to retrieve the knife and leaned my back against the wall. A man appeared wearing a black robe that covered his entire body and half his face, and he was holding my father's head by the hair in one hand and a rope in the other. I swallowed and my hands began to shake. I knelt on the ground to vomit, still clutching the knife tightly, despite the now violent shocks. The man approached me and dropped my father's head at my feet. He started to wrap the rope around my neck, but I grabbed the rope and yanked it, and because of the blood on the floor, the man slipped and fell to the ground. I, with the knife still in my trembling fingers, approached him and... in the middle of the sheet of paper... I resented them for allowing this to happen. I know, it's horrible. They were murdered and I'm angry at them. But this could have been avoided. About a week before, we received a bouquet of Camas lilies on our doorstep every day. I'm no expert on floriography, but I'm pretty sure those mean death. My mother loves flowers and is very educated about them, so I know for a fact that she had to know. I know it seems silly to resent her for not looking at the flowers. But maybe if she had, she wouldn't have died. I think I'm angry that by not caring enough about their own protection, they put my life and Mo's at risk. I'm angry because they were never caring, caring parents and because of that Mo had no one to turn to except me. I raised her. I love her more than anything. But that's not how it was supposed to be.