Honey
*Four months later*
Water cascaded down my back as I washed my hair. My incision and the scar from the gunshot had healed, even if I had to apply a cream to the scar every night. Warm water also helped it not feel so tight.
It was the middle of the night, but I couldn't sleep well anyway.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as they always did when I was alone. But it blended in with the water.
Recovery was hard. The hardest thing I've ever done.
But while my abdomen was making good progress, my heart was a different story.
Even though my parents were with me, helping me every single step of the way, I felt alone. They didn't get me. Never did. Not really. But they were trying and I respected that.
My mom stayed in the guest room at my dad's house, driving me to physical therapy
