“You think you know me? You think you know what this is like?” I screamed, feeling the anger quickly melt from fury to fear. I was being kept in this “room”, or at least I think that is what this place is. I had no clue what to think, no clue what to do, no clue how to escape, or if I did escape where to go. I had only one thing that I could do, sit here and pray that I did not die.
3 Days Earlier
“Do you think I say this, just to waste my breath? This is for your own good.” Is what I am pretty sure my mother said? But I couldn’t be sure, I was trying not to listen, I had heard this speech more than one hundred times. I knew I had three seconds before I was going to be sent to my room and grounded, “Are you even listening? Of course you aren’t! I am done with you, Alexia Maria Sanchez.” I looked up at the sound of my “real” name, Alexia. My mother only used that name when I was being yelled at or punished; she knew that I hated my name. I liked to be called Lexie, or Alex, anything but Alexia. When I got called “Alexia” it flipped a switch, as I call it, anger runs through my body, and nothing nice comes out of my mouth. I felt the switch flip, I felt the anger begin to run; I stopped myself just before I opened my mouth. I knew my mother was doing this to see if I could keep my cool. She knew a “flip” switched when someone called me Alexia. My mother was the first person to witness the flip switch, and the first person to cause the switch to flip.
