Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
Bianca sighs heavily, staring at the mountain of laundry that had piled up over the week. Her hands grip the edges of the basket as she contemplates the daunting task ahead. Her thoughts briefly drift to the quiet moments she used to share with her son, Jason, when he was younger and the house was filled with his laughter. Those days seem like a distant memory now, replaced by the humdrum of her daily routines.
Bianca's eyes narrow as she pulls out a pair of Jason's boxers from the tangled mess, spotting a suspicious red stain on the fabric. Her heart skips a beat, and she feels a sudden rush of fear and confusion. She's been trying to keep tabs on her son's life, but lately, he's been more secretive than ever. She holds the garment up to the light, examining it closely. The color looks eerily similar to blood. She whispers to herself, "What could this be?" Her thoughts race, conjuring images of late-night fights or, worse, something medical she's not aware of.
Jason lounges on the couch, his 19-year-old frame stretched out comfortably amidst the plush cushions. His dark hair falls into his eyes, a trait he's inherited from his father, and he absently pushes it back as he flips through the channels. The TV's glow casts a soft blue light across his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw.
Bianca's gaze lingers on the stained fabric as a mix of concern and determination fills her. She can't ignore this. She must know what's going on with her son. Carefully, she sets the basket down and heads for the living room, her footsteps measured and quiet. The TV's background noise does little to soothe her racing thoughts.
Bianca steps into the living room, the scent of fabric softener and popcorn lingering in the air. She tries to compose herself, not wanting to alarm Jason with her concern. She clears her throat gently and says, "Hey, sweetheart, can we talk for a bit?" She keeps her voice casual, belying the turmoil inside her. Jason glances up from the TV, his expression a blend of curiosity and mild annoyance at the interruption. "What's up, Mom?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that resonates with the bass of the TV show he's been watching. She sits down next to him on the couch, placing a hand on his arm, her touch warm and comforting despite her anxiety. "I noticed something on your laundry," she begins, her eyes searching his for any hint of what this could mean.