tudio, tangled with the wooden ladder that had betrayed me. My canvases, a collection of hopes and dreams rendered in oil and acrylic, were s

ere, her face a mask of fury. My father was right behind her. They didn't as

?" Mrs. Davis' s vo

se with pain and the shock of the fall. I tried to push

his face red with anger. "You missed your intervi

all. I had been hanging my final piece, trying to get the l

ed you!" Mrs. Davis shrieked, her words hitting me with physical force. Emily, my perfect, biological sister to t

feet. The room spun. He dragged me across the floor, ignoring my cry of pain, a

d Emily," he snarled, his face close to mine

fening metallic click. Darkness enveloped me, broken only by a sliv

stacks of canvases, seemed to press in on me. My lungs tightened, a familiar, cold dread creepin

against the solid wood of the door. "Pl

breath came in ragged, shallow bursts. I could

ing dramatic,"

replied, his voice already distant. "Emily is s

, my body trembling, my pleas turning into choked sobs that no one could hear. The air gr

roat. The panic attacks came in waves, each one leaving me weaker, more depleted. I scratched at

g I saw was that sliver of light from the high window, a promise of a world that had f

later, Mrs. Davis

ells like something we

ot looking up from the European travel brochures spread across

k of me again. N