The sun’s glaring flare burns my eyes through the spotless window. The sun shines and  birds sing in melodic chirps that would’ve made Snow White swoon in pride. Kids revel in the spring air, not too cold, not too hot. The cheer that contaminated the souls of the scene was nearly sickening, mocking me in its brilliance. On the other hand, my room gave off the overwhelming aroma of depression. I can feel it pushing against my body, my withered body. A shower was due, but, what was the point? I wasn’t going to make an appearance outside of this room. Images soar through my mind, flashing before me. One features a girl cowering into herself as she feebly stabs a paper thin fork into produced, slaughtered pig. Whispers from last night’s conversation acquaintance her at the lunch table. “You were a mistake, no wonder your father left us”, “fat cow”. The girl glances up from her barely touched lunch and seems to look into my soul with a pleading angst, end it! Then, I recognize the small frame of the girl’s face; I see it every time I glimpse into a mirror.  “Fiona,” the faint trace of a yell reach my ears. It belonged to my mom. The screeching sound of her voice continues,”Young lady, you better get your butt down here right now!” My mom was on the move. I hear each deafening step, lone and thunderous. The bedroom door that is decorated with the scars of bashes and punches creaks open. I can feel my mother’s presence, knowing her, her poise is violent. I slightly position my head to the right so I can see her. The sockets of her eyes barely restrain her bulging, bloodshot eyes. The stench of drugs penetrate my nose. “You dumb s----, get up”, matter of saliva soar from her mouth and drift into the air until they drop onto the scarred wood floor. They fall short of my face by centimeters. The realization of my seclusion being invaded hits me like a brick. What has she done? To my dismay, my only safe haven is being intruded and tarnished. My mom’s voice becomes slurred and twisted, no longer comprehensible yet audible. The images come faster and faster, beating away at my mind. Snickers. Tears. Drugs. Shoves. Pain. Disgust. Fist. Noose. The impact of these atrocities is too much for my mind to make sense of so I let it take control. It was like a breaking dam, nothing to do, but drown. My lungs begin to constrict upon each other; I gasp repetitively for the daunting ambience. From my mother’s view, she looked upon me with fear, as my body trembled with the ferocity of an earthquake. What is happening to me?! My mother does not react, frozen in peril. It seems as if my heart is about to pound out of my chest. I swivel my head up to the sky and see the beauty that is outside. It only made me feel worse. With the steps of a cheetah, my mother rushes out the doorway to locate her phone. As that happens, I seem to drift into a desolate h---. I want to escape but I don’t know where to go. The screaming surge of anxiety tousles my mind, succombing me. Then, a hand finds leisure on my back. My mother begins to rub my back in a circular motion and coons sweet nothings, it’ll be alright. Tears begin to pool in my eyes and cloud my vision. Once a pretty sky, it warps into a mist of vibrant colors. The sun stretches its yellow rays across the pale blue sky; its rays pierce the too white clouds. The Black Phoebes’ stark black feathers inconsistently trickle throughout the landscape. This revision of the unblemished sky calms me. The abstract beauty of it is almost paradisiac. With a sharp breath, my mind overcomes most of the angst. It oozes out my pores and pools in the corner of my room. My eyes advert between my mom, the sky, and the sense of dread. Although the anxiety isn’t as overwhelming, I still feel fragile. I take notice of a slight vibration in my arm. My eyes slowly travel downward until I see the cause of these tremors; it was the arm itself. From elbow to hand, my arm violently quivers. It seemed to function on its own, irregular and foreign to the rest of my body. But, I’m fine for the time being, right?