Malachai Lennox
“My stomach hurts-“ The little girl whimpered as she held onto her stomach. She slid off her bed massaging her palms into her abdomen as she walked towards the door. Eagerly, I followed her, wanting to know every detail of her life. Seraphina opened the door and stepped out into the hall with her arms wrapped around her stomach. The stained carpet and discarded trash began to paint a picture of the childhood Seraphina had. On the brown walls, not one family photo was in sight.
“Dad?” Seraphina called out. Within seconds, she stood in her living room. Newspapers covered the carpeted floor, empty liquor bottles seemed to be the common theme, along with ashtrays filled with cigarette buds, needles on the coffee table along with a huge amount of unidentifiable pills scattere
