Yes. I was 12 at that time and my parents were having some financial problem. They argued quite bad at that time that my mother spitted everything out, all of her dissatisfactions, her bad comments of my father because my mother thought that she had suffered enough from all of this. My father didn't make enough money and my mother needed to work hard as well to help him. My mother was frustated that my father didn't redeem my mother's jewelleries back after he had mortgaged them because obviously he didn't have the money. After the dispute, my father went out of the house and he left my mother and me alone in the house. I was at my study area at that time and suddenly I heard my mother talking to herself in the kitchen, sort of losing herself already. I went to the kitchen to look at her to find that my mother was holding a knife with an expression that I couldn't forget until now. She was so different. She wasn't the mother that I knew. She was holding the knife and looking at it with enthusiasm to kill herself. I was so afraid, all I could think of was blood and I didn't want to see it so I ran. However, my legs weren't able to function like usual since I was so frightened so I fell down and crawled away from my mother back to the study room.

I knew I screamed something. Something that I never expected to say in my life. I then heard footsteps coming to me. My mother was so different. I knew she had the intention to kill me as well, maybe. I don't know. Maybe not. Maybe she just wanted to see me the last time. I was bawling my eyes out when I screamed something to my mother, something that I knew I had no other choice but to say that to save her. Deep inside, I didn't want to lose her. Or I was just being selfish because I didn't want to see blood. She finally got back to herself dropped the knife and started to pour out everything to me.

What I knew, from the incident, I can't hold a knife or anything sharp too long because I'll have the tendency to cut someone's throat so bad. Probably to satisfy my hunger at that moment since I didn't see the blood that I was supposed to. I need to refrain myself so bad. Even when I'm holding a baby, I need to refrain myself so bad from letting the baby fall from my arms. I'm like Dexter now except I'm able to control myself quite well. I can only hold the baby or sharp things only for few minutes, not more than five. Or I'll regret what I'll do beyond that. I'm addicted to blood secretly.