21
In a blazing temper, I slam the front door.
“Freya!” Mum whispers with a sharp tone as she comes out of the living room. “What the hell are you doing? Your brother is sleeping.”
I can feel my body start to tense up in anger, so I don’t retort. “Sorry,” I reply with a hint of sarcasm. “Forgot.”
I make my way up the stairs, hoping that a good movie will take away the taste of this shitty day.
“Aren’t you going to ask how your brother is?”
Stopping halfway up, I grab the banister and turn to her. “How is he?” I ask, finding it impossible to rein in my foul mood even for a moment.
“He’s much better. Temperature is back to normal.”
Normal? What the hell is that? The word has lost all its meaning in this madhouse.
“That’s good,” I say with one of my classic fake-smiles. “Can I go now
