I hated hospitals. . .had always been.
The smell, the people and the doctors, everything scared me. I can't be sure if it reminded me of my times in those covens or if it had something to do with my biological mother. Years ago, when that tragedy struck in my life, and I lost my mother, with the hope that she would survive somehow, I begged the doctor to do everything to wake her up. . .that I would pay for her. I was mad at my mom for hiding from me that I had a mother, too, alive somewhere, then I would have gotten the chance to spend time with her.
I hurt mom. Maybe I still blame her, even though I knew it was wrong. She didn't need to take the burden, but she took me in and raised me. I couldn't figure out how to help myself with these issues. I had many things on my mind, and it a
