Today brought back old sadness. It was the same heavy, choking feeling I used to get from my adoptive mother.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling the sudden, cold grip of something I hadn’t thought about in years. It was the feeling of being small and useless. Today, dealing with Alice’s sharp words and constant disrespect, it had cracked open a door I kept locked tight.
Flashback: Eight Years Old
The kitchen floor was cold under my knees, even through my thin pajamas. I was eight years old, skinny and tired, scrubbing the old linoleum with a worn brush. The smell of Pine-Sol was sharp and burned my nose, but I liked it because it meant I was cleaning, doing my job.
I watched the dirty water swirl down the drain. I had been working for two hours. My arms ached, and sweat was
