I wake up the next morning to my mother sitting at the edge of my bed. She is staring directly at me with a blank expression on her face. She kind of creeps me out. I rub my eyes, waiting for them to fully adjust to the light which is flooding the room through the opened window. “Good morning,” I greet. “What are you doing here?” I ask her. She doesn’t reply for a few seconds, she simply watches me with a close eye. “What is actually going on?” she questions. I give her a confused look. “What do you mean?” I ask. I haven’t done anything to her to make her feel suspicious of me. “Well, for starters, Rory comes home after staying at your house, bloody and swollen with two black eyes and refuses to tell anyone what happened,” she begins. I roll my eyes. “He was asking to get beat up. He was t
