Some secrets don’t surface until it’s too late—and when they do, they don’t ask permission before changing who we become.
Writing Prompt
Mika Aronsin took the call every parent dreads. Her fourteen-year-old daughter, Kim, was dead from an overdose.
Mika had no clue Kim was using drugs. Kim’s room was spotless—cleaner than dishes fresh from the dishwasher. No pills. No powders. No paraphernalia. Kim’s friends told the same story: She was clean.
Then Mika unlocked Kim’s phone.
Hidden behind a secret social media account was a world Mika never imagined—young girls connected to “sophisticated men,” private messages disguised as mentorship, affection coded as opportunity. Mika’s heart pounded like a jackhammer.
She told her husband, Mark. He was already deep in depression. He dismissed her fears, insisting she stop chasing ghosts and go to counseling—like him.
Mika agreed.
What she didn’t tell Mark was this: her counselor also happened to be a handgun instructor at a local firearms store.
Write the story from here.
Writer’s Question
When grief turns into resolve, where does justice end—and obsession begin?