Witness

I remember
Too clear as horrible memories
Tend to be that way
Our brains perfectly capturing everything
A moving snap shot
The glinting knife in his hand
His shark white teeth
His mouth snarled in anger
My mothers hands
Covering her head
Trying, poorly, to protect herself
His fist goes down
The knife disappears
My mother's blonde hair
The perfect canvas for the blood
To bloom and spread
The sharp sound of the knife falling,
Bouncing once, twice and then still
The blood flung and then staining the ground
Pooling in freckles of dark scarlet
My mother weeping, sobbing
Repeating over and over that she was sorry
That she loved him, that she'd be better
He stumbled back and then mumbling
That he loved her as he walked out the door