CHAPTER 8: Kim (November)

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The bag my parents packed when I first was emitted into this nuthouse, is packed with a few books of my liking, my journal I had sense I got here, and a few sweatshirts. (With no strings in the hood of course. Wouldn’t want me hanging myself.)

Mr. Tui finally signed my bill of good mental health, and I’m finally out of this hell hole. “Kimberly, someone’s here to see you,” a nurse says, clearing my head. Turning, I see the ‘Gates of Hell’ open, revealing a small, petite woman with long, silky black hair that hung around her shoulders, and big knowing brown eyes. Even though her hair has more grey in it than I remember, I know her. 

My mother.

She opens her arms, welcoming me into a bear hug. “Hey, sweetheart.” she whispers into my hair. “It’s time to go home.”

Home, I think. 

I’m going home.

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