42

~Aspen

There is no more conversation for mother and I to have, and she knows it.

Someone comes to collect me, taking me upstairs to my old bedroom. The feeling in my legs is taking it's time to come back, so escaping isn't an option right now.

I'm laid down on the bed before being left to myself, the door closing behind the guards.

I stare up at the roof, gritting my teeth. Beneath me is my old bed. I spent many nights like this, staring up at the ceiling, wishing I were elsewhere.

Turning my head, I examine my room.

It hasn't changed much, which is a surprise. I would have thought mother would have stripped everything that resembled me away, using the space for her own interests. But nothing has been touched.

I screw my nose up at all the dust. This is terrible...I wish I could rip this entire room to shreds, along with all the dark, cruel memories.

It takes a few hours of laying on the bed before the feeling in my legs fully returns. I sit up, wincing at the sharp pain in my back.

T