Prologue: two years ago

The subdued lighting highlighted the contours of her face, revealing a sense of emptiness that echoed in the air.

The therapist, a figure in the corner, took a moment before responding.

"We're here to help you find your way, Mrs. Harper. Let's talk about what you're experiencing."

A gentle breeze whispered through the room, finding its way through the gaps in the closed windows.

The disheveled appearance of Mrs. Harper, with unkempt hair and neglected clothing, contrasted starkly with the luxurious surroundings.

"The voices, they echo in the silence. Whispering things I can't comprehend."

For a moment, Mrs. Harper, her eyes vacant, gazed at the ceiling as if trying to absorb the emptiness of the psychiatric care space.

The room, now repurposed for a different kind of healing that seemed to resonate with Mrs Harper's fragile state.

"Let's work through those thoughts together, Mrs. Harper. You're not alone in this."

The room continued to envelop them in its subdued ambiance, where dialogues became a tentative bridge between the silent echoes and the potential for healing.

After the therapist left, Alaric, just back from school, approached his mother as usual, ready to share his day and have his hair brushed by her.

However, it became evident that his mother's mental state was not well.

As Alaric entered, the woman pleaded earnestly with her son to release her from the restraints on the edges of the bed.

Tears streamed down her face as she expressed a feeling of entanglement.

Alaric, usually eager to share the highlights of his day, noticed the distress in his mother's eyes and hesitated.

"Mom, what's wrong? Why are you... like this?"

His mother, her voice choked with emotion, begged him desperately. "Alaric, please, release me from these bindings. I feel trapped."

Despite his confusion, Alaric saw the genuine anguish in his mother's eyes. She seemed overwhelmed by an internal struggle that he couldn't fully comprehend.

"Alaric, you're a good son. You wouldn't let your mother remain entangled, would you?"

His mother's words hung heavy in the air, a plea wrapped in vulnerability. Alaric, a mixture of concern and determination etched across his face, met his mother's gaze.

Alaric's heart swelled with a poignant understanding as he saw the tears in her eyes. In that moment, the bond between them transcended words.

Without hesitation, he reached for the restraints, his fingers deftly working to release his mother from the confines that seemed to symbolize her inner turmoil.

As the metal buckles yielded, the tension in the room began to dissipate.

Alaric's compassionate smile spoke volumes, offering solace to the woman who had always been there for him.

"You're a good boy," his mother whispered, his voice a soothing balm. "You're too good to be that bastard's son!"

Alaric found himself in a disorienting haze, a void where fragments of memories floated like elusive ghosts.

He struggled to piece together the puzzle of his recent actions, sensing a profound gap in his recollection.

The last coherent memory he could grasp was the act of releasing his mother from the restraints, a compassionate gesture driven by empathy.

Yet, the continuity of events seemed shrouded in a fog, as if his mind resisted acknowledging a painful reality.

As the mental fog began to lift, a vivid image emerged—a harsh slap across his face. Alaric winced as the sting reverberated through his consciousness.

His father's voice echoed in his ears, a cruel condemnation that cut through the confusion.

"Alaric, you useless child! Your duty is to take care of your mother! Is it too much to ask for you, huh?! Ungrateful brat!"

The weight of his father's harsh words hung heavily in the air. The shock of the slap, both physical and emotional, left an indelible mark on Alaric's psyche.

Confusion mingled with pain as he grappled with the realization that his attempt to help his mother had incurred the wrath of the one person he had hoped to find understanding from.

The juxtaposition of his compassionate act and the harsh reprimand from his father left him grappling with a reality that his mind struggled to fully accept.

The wailing sirens of both an ambulance and police cars echoed in a dissonant harmony, tearing through the somber stillness that clung to the scene of the tragic incident.

Flashing lights painted the surroundings in vibrant hues as they twirled in a mesmerizing dance, casting an otherworldly glow on the rain-soaked pavement.

As Alaric stood there, raindrops began to fall. At first, they were soft and hesitant, a gentle drizzle that seemed to mirror the tears that could not escape his pained eyes.

But the rain intensified, turning into a torrential downpour that matched the tumultuous emotions swirling within him.

Each raindrop seemed to carry a weight, washing away not only the physical traces of the tragic event but also attempting to cleanse the heaviness that lingered in the air.

Alaric, now drenched and vulnerable, touched his fingertips to his cheek, feeling the coolness of both the rain and the tears mingling on his skin.

The cacophony of sirens, the swirling lights, and the relentless rain formed an eerie backdrop to the profound sadness that saturated the atmosphere.

The world outside mirrored the storm that raged within Alaric, a poignant symphony of elements converging in the aftermath of a life-altering event.

Amid the dissonant symphony of sirens, Alaric's trembling voice cut through the clamor.

"What have I done?"

The ambulance attendants and police officers, their faces obscured by the relentless rain, moved with a sense of urgency, creating a backdrop of controlled chaos.

"Clear the way! We need to get in there!"

The flashing lights continued their dizzying display, casting an unsettling glow on Alaric's tear-streaked face.

"We'll need your statement, son. Can you tell us what happened?"

Alaric, his words catching in his throat, struggled to convey the turmoil within.

"I... I don't know. Everything is a blur."

The yellow police tape rustled in the wind as the scene became a tableau of despair.

Alaric's father, stricken with grief and anger, approached.

"Look at what you've done! You're a disgrace!"

The rain, now a torrential downpour, seemed to intensify the emotional tempest that engulfed Alaric.

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I just wanted to help." Alaric whispered. "She was in pain for so long, Father."

The paramedics wheeled a stretcher into the somber scene, a stark reminder of the tragedy that unfolded.

"Stand back, please. We'll take it from here."

As Alaric retreated, the rain continued to pour, each droplet echoing the weight of the emotions that saturated the air.

The scene, now enveloped in a poignant silence, bore witness to a life forever altered by the unforgiving storm of circumstance.

Alaric, soaked by the ceaseless rain, stood in a disoriented daze as the paramedics fervently attempted to revive his mother.

The chaotic dance of their efforts unfolded against the backdrop of the grim reality he faced.

A paramedic knelt beside his mother, hands rhythmically compressing her chest while another administered rescue breaths.

Alaric's eyes fixated on the haunting evidence of her struggle – a vivid, broken noose, and bones protruding from her neck, etching a grotesque testament to the depth of her torment.

As the paramedics persisted, the weighted iron tied to her legs, a deliberate burden she had carried, lay exposed.

It painted a poignant picture of the profound pain that had driven her to such extremes.

Despite their tireless endeavors, the paramedics exchanged somber glances, acknowledging the harsh truth.

The resuscitation efforts came to a halt, leaving an echoing silence in their wake.

"I'm sorry, son. We did everything we could."

Alaric, tears blending with the rain on his cheeks, approached his mother's now-still form. Her body, shrouded beneath a white sheet, bore the weight of her unspoken battles.

He gently touched her cold hand, grappling with the finality of loss.

"I should have seen the signs. I should have done more."

The rain, seemingly mourning the tragedy that had unfolded, continued its relentless descent.

Yellow police tape, stretched meticulously, delineated the area of the suicide, creating a perimeter that whispered of the solemn investigation to follow.

*