It's been two weeks since everything happened, and today I'm going back to college.
I decided to stay home during these days. I didn't ask Sandra anything; she tried to tell me how we got to the hospital, but I told her that was the least of it and that I would always be grateful to have her in my life.
It's a little past 7:00 in the morning. I've already freshened up.
"I need to exercise," I say to myself in the mirror, noticing how much weight I've lost.
I decide to wear jeans, a white tank top, and black Vans.
I leave my hair down, curl it, and put on some basic makeup: foundation, concealer, powder, blush, shaped eyebrows, mascara—lots of it—and purple lipstick. At least it hides my defeated look.
I grab my bag and books and go downstairs to have breakfast with Sandra.
"Good mor
