“It was a yes-or-no question.”
My mother looked past her, into my room. At me.
There it was. The stare.
Amanda, fix this.
Amanda, make me look good.
Amanda, don’t you dare.
My throat felt scraped raw. I had a blood pressure cuff on one arm and an IV in the other. I couldn’t even sit up straight without my stomach pulling in a way that made me want to vomit.continue reading …
