The next day, I got dressed in a blue shirt with a video game character emblazoned on the front. I wore my favorite, white washed jeans and my leather sandals.
One by one, I pulled on my bracelets and quickly applied eyeliner and mascara to my face.
I moved with mechanical precision as if stuck in a dream. The world around me had changed. Completely. I had to step carefully incase the floor beneath me gave way.
I opened my bedroom door and ventured to the kitchen, noting the smell of something sweet in the air.
Mom was baking pancakes.
My shuffling feet caught her attention. When she turned around, I recoiled. Mom looked awful.
Her eyes were red-rimmed and her hair was mussed. She’d obviously been crying.
Ironically, I hadn’t shed a tear. My mind, like a broken record, had repeated
