#Chapter28
I stretched as I got out of bed. I checked the time it was already eleven, which was unusual for me. I never slept in, not even on the weekends.
I made my way to my dresser leisurely. My eye went to the broken frame which Nichole had shattered a few days ago. Sara and I had stayed up late trying to glue the pieces back together but it didn't really make much of a difference, it was ruined. My heart clenched painfully. The photo-frame had been the last gift my mother had given.
I sighed as I removed the picture from the ruined frame.
It was a picture from the day I was born, my mother told me that one of the nurses had taken it. I was only a few hours old, wrapped up in a bundle of blankets. I gazed longingly at my mother's smiling face, she was looking down at me lovingly.
I cursed as the picture slipped from my trembling hands.
I gasped when a flash of my mother's familiar handwriting met my eyes.