Hearing a woman softly weep disturbed me. Something was wrong.

The hair on my arms and the back of my neck were zinging with little electrical shocks.  I could not stop myself from going and listening from the bottom of the stairs.

I could hear no children crying. Just the weeping of a woman and the low murmer only a man can produce. 

I looked to my right and noticed the front door was slightly ajar. Seemed maybe he was in a hurry to come in or too lazy to shut it properly. I didn't know which.

I listened for further signs of distress, I could still feel the strain in the air. A thick sensation of painful anticipation.

After a few minutes, I saw her silhouette walk across the hallway entrance into the kitchen. She turned her tear filled face to me and gave me a small smile, her hand making a downward gesture as if to say,

"All is well, you can go down now."

Not all of me was buying it. That gut feeling of dread would not leave me. I walked uncertainly away. Not sure of whether I should stay or go, my instincts remained alert. As I kept my ears tightly tuned and my senses highly aware of any changes of pressure in the air, any sign of danger,  I registered it.

Sleep could not be attained under such conditions. The night crawled like a centipede across a leaf eating as it went.

I waited for sunrise keeping my ears and senses tuned the whole time. Finally, in what seemed like forever, I could hear the sound of small feet padding down the hallway towards what sounded like the kitchen area. I waited and then heard a slightly longer and heavier stride down the hallway which sounded like Mrs. D. My suspicions and my fears would not abate though. At the time, I didn't know why. I would soon find out.

I heard Mrs. D moving around the kitchen and the smell of food soon wafted down to me. My stomach growled in spite of my alert status.

A couple minutes later, the oldest son came down,  smiled at me and gave me the peace sign.  He then waved at me to come up. 

I didn't know if Mr. D would be joining us, or if this surface feeling of peace was going to blow up at any second.

I didn't see Mr. D at the breakfast table. Just myself, the two children and Mrs. D who served up a lovely breakfast of eggs, rice and sausage with the usual serving of naan and chai tea.

I heard a toilet flush down the hallway. My heart picked up a beat. I knew it was Mr. D coming down to the table.

I looked up at Mrs. D, she again waved her hand downward.

I sat quietly. Mr. D came to the table and greeted his sons then looked down on me with his large, deep brown eyes.

"I'm berry sorry." He clasped his two hands together as if in prayer.

I looked at him not knowing what to do, I just nodded at him.

Breakfast was held in mostly silence the tension not quite dissipated, I remained on yellow alert.

I was afraid that something would happen when I wasn't there. Afraid that I would come home to something brutal. Afraid I would come home to something dead. My senses would not let me go. So I watched, I listened.  I paid attention....

I didn't wait for long....