—
The drive to the academy is so blissfully quiet that a part of me is reveling in it, and the other part is cautious of what’s going to happen next because nothing good ever stays that way.
It’s a reality I’ve had to come face to face with at a very young age.
At four years old, my mother met a kind man that took us in and gave me doll houses. He lavished my mom and I with presents every little girl would wish for and I slept as soundly as a baby on my nice pink princess bed.
Until one night, it all changed.
The gifts stopped and were replaced with screams. My mom no longer came home with a smile on her face but a new bruise on her body. I could never sleep like a baby on my bed anymore because all I could hear were my mom’s cries every night.
A few more years of that and a dif
