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My legs felt weak and I felt numb. Next to me was my grandmother, she wept openly and wept even harder when I closed the lid to the dark long box. I closed it carefully hoping my mom would jump up and shout out,''Kidding'' while laughing her special laugh.
But no.
Once death it you, it hits you. People think my mom died from a very high fever but I know better.
My mom was a witch. And the reason she died was because she took a very high fever from a woman named Dawn Sherman. My mom was a surgeon, she saved lives everyday. But Mrs.Sherman was pregnant and had a fever of 107.6. She wanted to save her and the new life that was growing inside of her. So she took the fever from her and died. As for my dad, he was a drug addict and started abusing my mom three years after I was born. So she packed her bags and left him. I never knew him and I haven't seen him ever since. My grandpa on the other hand died two years ago from a stroke. He was fifty-nine when he died. I thought about how my familynarrowed downto just my grandmother and I. This thought angered me. And the thought about how my mother broker her promise to never give her life in order to save another. I got even angrier, so wut call me selfish but my mother and I were close.