It's just me, Emma.

When I and my twin brother got home my mom was already back from work and in the kitchen washing goat meat. Oh no, she wants to cook soup. The thought brings my mood down because cooking will postpone my sweet reunion with my bed. We drop in to greet her, we're about to rush upstairs before she calls us back, [shit!], and we thought we could avoid the questions."Where are you guys rushing to? Won't you greet me properly and gist me about your day?" she comes out of the kitchen and sits down in the parlour so we have to sit down too.I can't say I or my siblings are exactly close to my mother, we aren't too close with our dad either but it's better with him because flogging isn't his style.I mean flogging a child for almost every little fuck up for years can have that effect, as we grew older we learned where and how to hide her canes so she doesn't find them and eventually she got tired of replacing it and gave up.

When I wake up, I'm temporarily confused about where I am and what day it is because of the dream I had. When I remember I let out a sigh of relief because it's Friday, then I also remember that today is the day I'm supposed to face the disciplinary committee, and for the umpteenth time, I close my eyes and imagine sending invisible daggers at Edith.