It was late when I hobbled inside. At this point with my bloody hands, the weak legs, and how much I’ve been running, it was time to admit that I needed to cut back. Making myself numb might not have been the healthiest way to handle recent changes in my life, but I wasn’t sure if I dared any other option. Talking had never been my strong suit.
As I passed a room, the light switched on.
I could feel Analise’s anger from where I was and I hadn’t looked yet.
So I did.
Her face was white, eyes strained, mouth pinched, and her arms were folded over her chest. My mother never folded her arms, it was deemed unladylike and too confrontational. Then her foot started to tap on the floor.
Guess I pissed her off.
“Do you know what time it is?” she clipped out.
No clock was in sight. I shrugged
