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transform. Before I realize what s happening I stare at the
flower in my hand. I m not holding a rose anymore. I m
holding an asphodel.
Mom panics and immediately tries to snatch the flower
from my grasp, but it s too late. Within seconds of its
transformation the asphodel has become speckles of
small, glittering dust and it blows away in the wind.
Nothing happens.
Mom exhales and relief washes over her features.  Oh
right, she gasps.  It s after midnight. She pulls me to her
chest and places a kiss on the top of my forehead.  Thank
the God s. I step away from the embrace and mom tilts her
head motioning to the house.  Come on. It s late and you
have school today.
 Are you really going to make me go to school? I
shout as she turns her back to me.  After everything that s
happened!
Mom strolls to the back door.  You long for normalcy.
I m treating you the way a normal parent would treat their
child.
 Ugh, I scoff, taking a step forward, but as I try to lift my
other foot something happens. The roots from the redwood
tree shoot up out of the ground, twisting and contorting like
serpent.  Mom! I shriek.  I don t know what s happening!
Mom s spins around, her face drenched in fear, and
sprints toward me.  No! No! she screams.
I hurl my body forward, but drop my eyes when I notice
a small, sliver of a crack in the earth.  Mom! Hurry! My
lungs clench and I m holding my breath. The crack widens
and soon clumps of the earth begin to fall into a deep black
pit. Mom finally reaches me, but now the crack is so wide
all she can do is extend her hand. She can t jump across. I
reach for her. My fingers curl, needy and desperate.
 Just grab my hand! she cries. She s terrified and
tears spill onto her cheeks. I extend my arm as far as I can
and feel a surge of warmth as her fingertips brush against
mine. Stretching the tips, I grapple with her hand, trying to
get a firmer grasp, but it s no use. The roots of the redwood
release my feet and the ground beneath me gives way.
 Persephone! mom shrieks.
 Mooooom!
Then I m falling. Falling into a pit of the unknown.
Shrouded by a blanket of black nothingness. Passing out
as the darkness eats me up and swallows me.
Persephone
I wake up and every bone, muscle, and organ in my
body aches. Sucking in a deep breath, I cry out as intense
pain stabs at my lungs. Maybe I m going to fall apart.
Maybe my limbs will start dropping, one-by-one, landing in
an odd arrangement on the ground. I hug myself tightly. I m
convinced I can be a bandage. I can hold myself together,
but as the pain stabs deeper and intensifies I know that s
not true. I don t have immunity from pain or injuries. I only
have immunity when it comes to death. And right now, I m
certain I d rather die than go through any more pain like
this.
I try to stand, but as I put weight on my right ankle it
buckles and I hit my knees. My hands slide through
moisture and grime while I continue using them for
leverage. Using the wall as my anchor, I get to my feet,
staring up as a sliver of moonlight peaks through a tiny
crack in the earth. I m frightened and desperate and I tell
myself that maybe if I can climb the wall, no matter how long
it takes me, maybe then I can climb out of this concrete
tomb and go back to earth. But the second I start climbing,
the crack slowly begins to close and soon I m wrapped up
in a black comforter. And I m stuck on the slippery cement
wall.
The darkness blinds me. I can t go up and I can t go
down. I m stuck in limbo and my fingers are sliding in muck
and I m losing my footing. My heel catches in a divot and a
burning pain blossoms in my ankle and travels up my thigh.
Crying out, I lose my footing and plummet from the wall,
hitting the ground with a thud.
All the bones in my spine crack as I sit up. The silence
seeps into my pores and infiltrates my blood stream. Pretty
soon it travels through my veins to my cranium and I m
certain my mind is playing tricks on me. A loud snap rings
out and I jump.  Is someone there? I grip the slippery wall
and pull myself up. My fingers slide, but I feel around and
rest my elbow in a protruding cranny of cement. Putting
pressure on my right ankle, I try to walk forward, but I can t.
I ve sprained my ankle.
Wobbling ahead, half-limping, half-hopping, I remain
against the wall with only the ability to feel my way around
the room. Part of me wants to give up. I m weak, in pain,
and frightened. I feel like a toddler whose just been scolded
by her parent. Every part of me wants to curl up into a ball
and cry. But I don t. And I can t. I need to find a way out of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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