Tommy grabbed the knife as he reached for a chopping board, and was about to start working on the onions when his dad said something. He glanced round and his eyes widened at the sight of the blood, then looked down at the blade of the knife he was holding.
There was blood on it, about to drip onto the chopping board. His dad's blood. He'd done that. He hadn't wanted to, he hadn't, that was his dad so why would he have to hurt him he didn't want to he didn't he wouldn't
Everything Tommy'd been holding up in the air fell to the ground along with the knife which clattered as it hit the counter top and then bounced onto the floor. He didn't react to any of it, he just stared at the drop of blood that had hit the board, and tried to weather the sudden storm in his mind.