Terror.
Once Jason is bathed and sleeping, I walk into my bedroom, running a hand through my hair. The strands have grown considerably long but I don't hate it, I'm beginning to realise it's not the length or colour of my hair that makes me who I am.
It's my actions, my thoughts, my feelings and my friendships with everyone around me.
I walk past a mirror hung on the wall and stop, turning to face it. For once in my life, I don't despise what I see. I don't hate who I am. The corners of my lips tug upwards into a small smile and I know that I've finally come to peace with who I am.
Trisha Louise Lockwood.
"Trish?" I hear Tobias call me from downstairs, his words spoken softly so he doesn't wake Jason. My smiles broadens and I pull away from the mirror, heading back downstairs. He's standing at the bottom of the stairs, a tea towel flung over his shoulder. In his hand, he holds two glasses of wine.