My vision travels down the bathroom counter, through the fluorescent lights, and onto the test. Positive. My vision shifts to the mirror, the shattered, broken girl gasping for hope. Unmistakably innocent questions left unanswered, untouched. The bathroom counter and tiles start spinning and do not stop, even when I ground myself, when I take deep breaths. I stagger to the floor, clutching the insurmountable fear weighing like cement on my chest. The tiles feel like ice against my warm body, attempting to cool the heat of anger. My hands seem to move sans my instruction, following the hem of my shirt and to my stomach. I’m choked in disgust for who did this, drowning in the ramifications of someone else’s selfish actions. I look at my tear-drenched shirt and touch my swollen face. It’s puffy and tender, reminiscent of the clouds that once resembled childhood innocence and that the world only knows righteous people. My sodden hands reach for the cool marble counter above me as I attempt to stand. My legs feel as though I have just run a marathon, and my chest has only gotten heavier. When I accomplish my mission, I do not make the mistake of glimpsing in the mirror again. Instead, I take the test and shove it into my dusty backpack, throw away the sinful garbage, and clean the mascara bleeding from my eyes. The makeup I used to conceal my bruise has faded, but that is the least of my concerns. I lock myself in the cold, lifeless room until I know it is safe to exit. Until I know he has left. I recognize the footsteps above me as they snake through the house and out the wooden door. My palms are embalmed in sweat, and the beading on my forehead and nose commences. I count to ten; one, two, three, four… the wooden door opens again. This time, it is slammed with a force so great I thought the foundation might crack. I hear the footsteps once more, angry and determined, tearing through each part of the house. The yelling has not begun yet, but until then, I am silent. I  focus on the lines of my palm, just as I did all the times prior. I breathe and begin to make stories for each of my lines. The footsteps grow louder, closer. My breathing comes to a sharp halt, my lungs blown up but not released. The knob on the door rattles violently, and the pounding fist against the door drags my lifeless soul back to the present. _Just breathe_, is what I tell myself. _It will stop. It always stops_. My vision is obscured, either by my tears or my brown curls, I do not know. The pounding has stopped. I breathe. I hear the footsteps carry up the stairs, determined but no longer laced with imminent danger. My jaw feels tight, and it is only now that I realize I have been clenching it for the past twenty minutes. The noises above me have slowed to a calming, familiar pace. I breathe, center myself, and stare at the ceiling. I make out individual creatures, childhood innocence creeping back into my brain for just a second. I reminisce about when my mom would take me to the petting zoo, where I first saw her sick. She wasn’t physically sick, just mentally unwell. I remember her dressing me up in a brand new outfit to make it look like we had money. When we got to the zoo, I immediately ran to the animals. I crouched down and got my new pair of jeans dirty to pet the bunnies scurrying along their enclosure. The soft fur slipped through my fingers, and the little teeth tickled as they grazed my hands. When I looked up, my mother was replaced by a strange man talking to his daughter next to me. A sudden panic took over my body. I rubbed my dirt sprinkled hands across the front of my white blouse and ran to find my mother. I yelled for her, my cheeks raw and wet from crying. I reached a bridge just a half mile away from the petting zoo. That’s where I saw her. 

“Mom?” I asked, uncertain if my mother was the woman standing on the bridge, just above the fifty-foot drop.

“Oh! Stella, you scared me, honey.” My mother looked surprised to see me, but her eyes told a story of a woman who needed escape from this life. Someone who needed to let go. And I understood her. 

I went up to her and hugged her, and now I understand that was my goodbye to her. I didn’t say it, but I didn’t need to. We both knew this was what had to happen. I told her I loved her and I would see her in the car. I knew I wouldn’t. I didn;t know if this was okay, if letting her go should feel this easy. I only did it to let her be where she wanted to be. I wanted Dad to stop hitting her and take it out on me instead. If she was gone, she would be in heaven and could watch over me. Then Dad wouldn’t hit her, and she could live happily. 

I said goodbye to my mom that day. Now, I understand that I should have been with her. We could be together right now, and I wouldn’t be locked in this cold, marble bathroom with a mirror that mocks my every move. 

The steps start again, this time slow, quiet, and serpent-like. I can do this. My mom would want me to. I stand up and face the starchy bathroom door. The steps close, and his fist pounds on the door again, sending my body into a freeze. I don’t move, I can’t. 

A muscled voice comes from outside the door. “Stella, I didn’t want this to happen. I’m sorry for hurting you. Come out, honey.”

“No, dad. Stop. Go away!” I shriek, my words cutting off with each tear that rolls down my face and into my mouth. 

“Get out here.” His stern voice was quiet yet rattled the whole house. 

I slowly, tentatively open the door and watch the black pistol in front of my face. The dark, promising hole I have stared down so many times prior. 

“Mom never loved you, you son of a bitch!”

The shot came unexpectedly, sending me into an eternal black abyss where peace was the only feeling. It was in this moment where I felt safe; falling to the ground of the cool marble tiles that had once been my panic room. I felt the irony substance pool around me, warm and gushing. I felt my life go blank, watching as the last thing I saw were the animals on the ceiling I had traced just minutes before. I saw the bunnies dance around the ceiling as the lights had gone dark, my life gone black, and my soul finally free.