The stars were aligned tonight. I stared at them through the car window, along with insects that flew into the windshield. The moon was covered by the clouds. Mother was driving. I call her Mother because, well, she's not technically my mother. She took me in after my parents died in a "hit and run" when I was 9. I put them in quotations because I don't believe that story one bit. The way Mother says it, when I ask, just throws me off. I turned 16 today. Mother bought me a beanie and handed me $60. Mother leans up to look above at the sky. "Shit." She mumbles underneath her breath. "What, Mother?" She looks at me with a worried look on her face. "Nothing, sweetie." She applies pressure to the gas. I knew something was up. I leaned up and viewed the skies to see what she was so worried about. I started asking myself questions. Why is she so worried? Is it the way the clouds are moving? Is it the full moon? The way the moon looked just churned my stomach. I grabbed at my stomach as I started to feel agony run through my body before leaning back in my seat. She looks at me and asks me if I'm okay. "Yeah, I just had a big headache and my stomach hurts. She applies more pressure to the gas pedal. I grab my hair before my headache turns into a huge migraine and a small stomach ache turns into incorrigible pain and agony. I mumble and groan through my breath. Mother keeps looking at me like she knows what's going on. She applied as much pressure as she could. "What's happening!?" I softly yelled. The brakes screech as we come to a stop. I go all the way forward, hurting my rib on the air bag. She put the car in park and reached into the back seat before taking out a syringe. "W-what's that for?" She takes the syringe, grabs my shoulder, tells me that it's gonna help before driving it into my neck. She sets the syringe down and starts driving again. The pain and agony won't go away. I feel weak. I grab at my head. My eyes slowly close before I pass out. I feel Mother grope my hair and look closely at my hands. I black out.
