Lauren Sanders is struggling to rebuild her life with her aunt and cousin after her family's tragic death. But what no one knows is the truth about two things: how her parents really died and her battle with schizophrenia.
One day, Lauren stumbles...
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The day my world shattered into a million fractured pieces began like any other day. The sun was just beginning to paint the sky in warm hues, casting a hopeful glow over our small suburban town. I was a regular high school student, blissfully unaware of the impending storm.
I remember the way my alarm clock blinked at 6:30 AM in bright red digits. That incessant beeping noise yanked me out of a peaceful slumber, the kind only teenagers seem capable of. I groaned, my head buried under a pile of pillows, briefly entertaining the notion of skipping school. But a stern voice echoed in my mind, urging me to get up.
The bathroom was my first stop, where I mechanically brushed my teeth, splashed my face with cold water, and combed my dark hair into submission. I glanced in the mirror, seeing the remnants of my childhood innocence slowly give way to the uncertain teenage years.
As I made my way down the hall, past my parents' room, I remembered the exact moment when time had slowed to a crawl. Elise's room, usually a sanctuary of stuffed animals and bright colors, was shrouded in a solemn silence. That day, I paused outside her door, my heart heavy with foreboding.
My eyes had been drawn to her empty bed, her favorite stuffed bunny abandoned at its side. A sudden chill crept up my spine as I noticed her window was open, just a crack, still left the way it was. The morning breeze had brought with it a faint scent of blooming lilacs, but it was the sinister whisper of something amiss that lingered in the air.
With each hesitant step, the world seemed to spin around me, and I tiptoed into her room, my footsteps a timid whisper on the carpet. I stopped in my tracks as I saw her, or what was left of her, hanging from the ceiling, her frail body swaying gently in the morning breeze. Elise was barely breathing, her eyes open in silent terror, struggling. I tried to reach out, trembling, to touch and reassure her, but I knew it was too late. Time was a cruel illusion, and in that moment, it seemed to stretch infinitely.
The memory of that morning haunted me every day, and it would forever be etched in my mind. The world had shifted in those heart-wrenching minutes, and innocence had fled, never to return.
I continued down the hall to my room, trying to shake off the feeling of helplessness and despair that had enveloped me. My father's voice echoed through the house, urging me to hurry and get ready for school. Life demanded that we move forward, even when it felt impossible.
Once dressed and ready, I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the house as I entered the kitchen. My father was already there, his face lit by the soft glow of morning light, and he greeted me with a smile that barely masked the weariness in his eyes.
"Morning, sweetie," he said, his voice filled with a hint of sadness and warmth.
"Good morning, Dad," I replied, trying to offer a smile in return, although it felt forced.
I scanned the kitchen for my mom, but she was nowhere to be seen. Her absence weighed on me, adding to the heaviness of the day. I knew that she was still choosing to rot away with her depression in her own space.
