The door opened. My mother stood in the doorway. “What is going on in here?” She asked. I looked down as she scanned the room. She walked over to me and slapped me across the face before turning to leave the room. I heard her yelling at the maid for using the good plates and tray on her worthless daughter. The maid soon reentered the room with tears rolling down her face. She started to clean up the mess. I went over to help; it was my fault after all. The maid smiled at me, she couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than me. I smiled back at her. Once she was done she left me feeling lonelier than ever.
Walking back to my chair seemed to take forever. To read each sentence, even longer. Once again I wondered, why me?
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