- Shopping Bag ( 0 items )
Posted May 6, 2013
I couldn't eat my dinner. My fork swirled through my peas and potatoes, tracing patterns in the gravy, but my stomach twisted with it. The anticipation of tonight was unbearable, and I felt absolutely sick. The Purge this year was going to be different, going to be worse. Mom must have been watching me, because she coughed, grabbing dad's attention. He looked up from his newspaper, and for the first time, I noticed the wrinkles that shouldn't have been on his face yet. The skin-creasing kind. The kind caused by stress. "What's wrong, Anna?" He asked, clearing his throat. With a shuffle I set down my fork and placed my hands in my lap. "I'm scared," I sighed quietly, my spine tingling in that uncomfortable way. No, scared was a demeaning word. Anxious was a much better description. My parents shared a look, and mom pulled her chair out, the slight scraping being the only noise in the silent room. "Come on, Annabell," mom murmered, placing a light hand on my back. It felt cold, and something terrible coursed through my body. The sudden change in the atmosphere nearly crackled with the tension. Slowly, purposefully, I got up and pushed my chair in, leaving my barely touched food on the table. I noticed dad watching us, but as soon as he caught my gaze, her muttered something inaudible and returned to his newspaper. Mom led me to the far hallway, where the only other things to overhear us was a couple of still-life paintings and a mirror. My pale face looked whiter than usual, framed by my long, clean honey brown hair.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.