Chapter 9 Every Time I Turn Around

• After several hours of staring at the walls in my room, I decide to try and visit with her again. Perhaps this time she won’t throw things at me. Or things could take a turn for the worse. One never knows with her.
• As I sit here scratching my neck, I walk to her room before I figure out what to say to her. When I arrive, I unlock it and cautiously enter because it is too quiet. I was wise to hesitate, because over the next few minutes, I am pummeled by a teenager’s fists on my arm and side. This discourages me from doing anything for her. Hell, at this point I don’t even want to see her face.
• She screams, “I hate you! Everyone must be looking for me and you won’t let me go home. My parent’s probably think I am dead!” Now her face is so red that she looks like she could instantaneously combust.