That night
Isabella
I struggled as I tried to flip my hand forward. the pain only intensified and yet giving up wasn't going to be an option. the coffee still sit right in front of me after my dad had put it on my table in the morning. but I wasn't going to take it. the only thing that it's still hard was this same drug that had made me paralyzed. this few moments have been the perfect opportunity for me to keep thinking about how everything happened the way it did not help to stop my mind could not rest. an atrocity had happened and none other than my Father and cost it.
