“YOU’RE NOT GOING IN THERE. The last thing we need is you setting her off. She’s sleeping for the first time in days,” I hear my mother’s voice say from down the hall. Who is she talking to? I’m not sleeping, am I? I lean up on my elbows, and the blood rushes to my head. I’m so tired, so tired. Noah is here, in my childhood bed with me. It all feels so familiar, the bed, the messy blond hair sticking up from Noah’s head. I feel different, though, out of place and disoriented. “I’m not here to hurt her, Carol. You should know that by now.” “You—” my mother attempts to fight back, but she’s
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God dude go home
