"Mommy where are we going?"
My mom pulls my arm as she leads me to a big white building with a cross on it. I never liked this building and I don't remember ever being in it before.
"Mommy?"
As much as I asked, she wouldn't reply. We were a few blocks away from the big cross building. In my 8 yrs. of knowing things I didn't know what this building was called. We got closer and closer, but the closer we got the more I began to resist my mommy. I pulled at her brown curls and scratched at her tan skin. Yet she wouldn't budge. Then, I got angry.
I remember how beautiful my mother was. She was a small petite woman with beautiful brown curls and gorgeous hazel eyes. I remember every detail of her round face and small hands that would hold mine as she took me to school.
I wish I could change that day. The day I got angry, was the day I burst into flames. It was the day my mommy burned.
