Delicious Cake

One of the goals for English Class months and months ago was to write introductions for the 6 ways: 1) Describing the Surroundings, 2) Describing a Character, 3) Opening with the Main Conflict, 4) Starting with a Dialogue, 5) Starting with a Dramatic Statement, 6) Starting with a Flashback.

There were three themes.
I picked: "Write an incident when your best friend betrayed you." (Don't ask) We could write different introductory stories, but I decided to be clever *cough* and write it so that whilst you could take each introduction separately, reading them in order would give you a story.

This is what I wrote.

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1) The cake sat on the table, seeming so out of place in the dreary room. The pallid grey walls, the mold growing on leaky taps and the unwashed dishes only accented the contrast with the bright, colourful, oh-so-edible cake. If you had entered the room, you would have smelled it immediately. Chocolate. Good, rich chocolate smells, wafting out the door, down the hallway, permeating the entire house. Such a cake had not been seen in this room for many years. Why was it there? A finger reached out towards it, hesitantly.

2) Mark was not a typical student. In addition to regularly outperforming his classmates at everything, his favourite hobby was to bake cakes. Mark was not rich - his parents had divorced when he was five, and his father, the breadwinner of the family, had left he and his mother to fend for themselves. Purchasing ingredients for cakes was hard, and that meant he had to scrimp and save every penny to enter the Annual Bake Sale at his school. This year, Mark knew he would win. The cake he had baked had no rival.

3) She opened the door gently.
"Mark? Are you home?" she said.
No reply. She sniffed. What was that smell? Something... something delicious. She drifted down the hallway, as if in a trance, dropping her bag and keys in her march to the kitchen. She ignored the sign Mark had left there - MOM, DO NO EAT - and reached out a finger to touch the glistening surface of the cake. She tasted it. Chocolate. Her favourite. Mmmph. The cake disappeared in an animalistic frenzy of gluttony, using both hands to cream the cake into her gaping mouth.
"Mom?" A sound reached her brain. It couldn't be...
"I'm home!"

4) "Oh God, what have you done!? That was mine! Didn't you see my sign?" Mark's anger was palpable.
She cowered beneath him, traces of cake and plate littering the floor.
"I didn't know! I couldn't think!" she said.
"I don't need your excuses! You were the only true parent - the only true friend I had. You betrayed me!" he spat.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please forgive me!" she pleaded.
Mark's wild roving eyes landed on a butcher knife.

5) An unearthly wail pierced the air. A shriek of pain, of guilt, of the last gasping breaths of a creature. Mrs. Gumbo got up from her gardening. She peered at the rundown terrace house next door, trying to glance in the dirty windows. The door opened and a figure stepped out.
"Mark?" she said, recognizing him. "What was that?
Then she saw the blood, the butcher knife clenched between white fingers. She raised her hands to her mouth and began to scream.

6) In retrospect, I never should have killed her. She was my mother, the only true friend in a world of idiots and bullies. But I had to. She had eaten it - my cake! - like an animal. I just did what I would do to any other animal. Put it down. I couldn't control myself. I can remember it like it was yesterday...