My sister ran away on my 11th birthday. Of course, last week, this is what I would 've described was the best present in the world. She was loud and condescending and a pain in the ass; she inhibited the worst stereotypical parts of an older sister. But when I woke up to an empty house with no sign of streamers or balloons or the chatter of people expecting me to come downstairs, I felt a sudden still terror. Something was wrong and everyone knew it hours before I had even regained full consciousness.
My mother was no where to be found.
I went into the kitchen and I was still expecting “Surprise!” and streamers and balloons, but instead I found the stove burning red and bright and the rain pounding against the windows and doors like someone trying to break in. …show more content…
I take deep breaths like Karen said to, but then I start panicking because it 's not working and I can still feel the sweat pricking on the back of my neck.
I hear Karen 's chair squeak as she gets up. I 'm thinking that she 's left the room to go call my mother and refund her hundred dollars an hour and I can just imagine her saying “I 'm sorry, I can 't help. Your daughter is broken.” and that would really suck because Karen really makes my Fridays 40% better with her tales about the petty women in her book club and her husbands battle with high cholesterol. I see her face at the opposite side of the table. She 's laying down flat on her stomach, staring at me.
“There is nothing wrong with you,” she says.
“Is that reverse
My mother was no where to be found.
I went into the kitchen and I was still expecting “Surprise!” and streamers and balloons, but instead I found the stove burning red and bright and the rain pounding against the windows and doors like someone trying to break in. …show more content…
I take deep breaths like Karen said to, but then I start panicking because it 's not working and I can still feel the sweat pricking on the back of my neck.
I hear Karen 's chair squeak as she gets up. I 'm thinking that she 's left the room to go call my mother and refund her hundred dollars an hour and I can just imagine her saying “I 'm sorry, I can 't help. Your daughter is broken.” and that would really suck because Karen really makes my Fridays 40% better with her tales about the petty women in her book club and her husbands battle with high cholesterol. I see her face at the opposite side of the table. She 's laying down flat on her stomach, staring at me.
“There is nothing wrong with you,” she says.
“Is that reverse