Cassandra
"Dinner is ready, Cassandra. I also bought your favorite dessert," my dad says with a wary smile when I walk through the front door. His hands gesture to the eggplant parmesan dinner that is plated on the dining table and a cheesecake in the middle. Tarra sits with her hands folded on her lap, her hazel eyes staring blankly at the wall.
I set down my bag on the couch, which is heavy from the books I checked out from the library. I wash my hands and join my father and sister at the table. Even as we sit down, I can feel the tension in the air. It's so thick that it is practically sucking all of the oxygen out of the room.
I pick up my fork, the smell of my favorite foods seep into my nostrils, which twists my stomach into an agonizing knot. A mixture of hunger arises along w
