Am I Really a Jinx?
She started seeing me as the enemy, like I was the worst person in the world.
Sometimes, I was confused.
Was being labeled a jinx more important than blood and family? Wasn't I Mom's precious daughter?
The conditions in the psychiatric ward were bad. The walls were cracked, and the air was thick with unpleasant smells.
Mom was kept in a tiny room. Ironically, it didn't have a window either.
Her hair was a mess. Sometimes she was lucid; other times, she was completely out of it.
When the nurse brought her medication, she'd scream in terror, "Jinx! Jinx! Stay away from me!"
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