She swept the glasses off the table with her arms, flinging them up into the air. I hunched over and covered my eyes. Glass ricocheted off my ears. I had to remind myself that I had already found an affordable room to rent in the East Village. That I was going to a place far away from my mother, from Washington Heights. As I felt drops of water fling over my hair, I had to remind myself that I was an artist, lucky to be selected from thousands of artists to attend Cooper Union. She continued screaming and I covered my ears. I ducked my head between my legs, and tried to remember the admission
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Hiding from the abuse by placing herself elsewhere, where she was running to
