I wasn't mad anymore, and I didn't feel claustrophobic as I crossed the kitchen to them. It was after the therapist told my dad that I was 'evil' that he contacted Grandma Flores and got some help that at least understood what I was going through. Yeah, I was. He shook his mouth like a dog with a bone, and I swallowed a scream.
They wouldn't have gotten in a car with strangers. You're not going to argue? Jason asked. Richard cooked, and had always been either taking me out to dinner or wanting to cook for me. It was like a fist that stayed clenched and tight, and only when I relaxed, spread wide those metaphysical fingers, could I be free.
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