The Hanging

Part II

I wake with a jerk at the sound of angry yelling. Mama's mad at Papa again by the sound of it. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and drag myself out of my warm, cozy bed. Quietly, I tip-toe across my room to the heavy, dark oak door and open it. Sticking my head out, I glance both ways and spot Mama and Papa near the big stairs.
Just as I slip out of my room and start making my way towards them, Papa reaches out and pushes his hand roughly against Mama's shoulder.
She staggers backward and trips on a long bulge in the carpeting. For a moment, she's suspended, only one foot on the edge of the top marble stair before she crashes down.
She tumbles head over heels, her skull making a horrendous cracking sound as it collides with a stair edge before her body collapses flimsily in a disarray of limbs at the bottom.
A terrified scream pierces the air and it takes me a minute to realize it's coming from my own mouth.
There's blood spreading in a puddle around my mother as I race to her, nearly falling down the stairs myself in my haste. I fall to my knees by her side, my trousers immediately wetting with my mother's blood. I'm too young to know it, but there's simply too much blood. The pool around her grows steadily as tears cloud my vision. I stretch out my hand and nudge her arm. She doesn't react, so I take to shaking her with jerky, panicked movements.
"Mama? Mama, wake up! You have to wake up!" I scream hysterically. My beloved mother doesn't move, doesn't show any signs that she's heard my scream or felt my shaking.
Servants come running, but they stop short at the gruesome scene before them. My wailing gets higher in pitch, breaking them out of their daze and they rush over, careful not to step in any blood. This proves a difficult with the ever growing quantity of the sticky liquid.
Marié, my maid and nanny, wraps a thick arm around my shoulders and leads me away, ignoring my sobs of protest. I want to stay with Mother, but she forces me to walk with her back up the stairs and to my room. As we walk, we pass by my father. He's kneeling at the high point of the stairs, his hands fisted around the hair on top of his head, his mouth gaping, and his eyes wide. He seems frozen in this position as Marié and I pass. He doesn't make a sound or even blink.
"What happened, mon enfant? (French: My child)" she asks gently in her lilting, sickly sweet voice and French accent.
I take a shaky breath to calm myself before I speak, "Mama and Papa were arguing again!" I sniffle before taking a deep breath and continuing "They were being really loud, and woke me up. I went to see what was wrong, but I never got to ask." Another breath." I saw Papa push Mama and she" I choke out a sob "fell." I pause and look up at my nanny, hope shining in my eyes. "Will she be okay, Marié?"
The elderly French woman looks down at the me. Putting her arms around my torso, she answers my question with slight hesitation. "I don't know, mon amour. (French: My love) I do not know."
My eyes fill with tears and I bury my head into her shoulder. We sit that way for a long time, me crying softly and she stroking my head gently, singing French lullabies in my ear.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity has passed, I fall asleep in my nanny's arms.