Megan stared at the stain, horrified. She couldn’t remember how it got there and now she was beginning to wonder about her sanity. Surely she would have remembered something like this.
She turned from the mirror and walked back to the kitchen. Yes, there it was, the top removed. It was impossible to guess at the damage, but that was okay … who was going to count how many chocolate chips were missing anyway?
Megan stared at the stain, horrified. She kept scrubbing and scrubbing but it kept coming back; the flesh of her arms swollen and angry from the coarse rag and soap – peeling away memories as each one remembered.
It kept coming back.
The bike, the screech, the screams…the blood cradled in her arms wet against her chest. The last breaths of her precious little girl, “Mommy…mommy…mommmm…."