Every day, she wakes up, 4:00 am sharp. She goes downstairs and makes breakfast, does her extra credit homework, does the chores, but quietly, so she doesn’t wake her parents, who were out late at that party last night. She doesn’t know if they know that drunk driving is illegal. 

She walks to the bus stop and gets on the bus. She goes to her school and meets her friends, who ask for help with homework.

She laughs and talks along with them, knowing what they say when they think she isn’t listening: “She’s always so positive. I wonder how she does it.”  But she isn’t happy. Behind her mask, she is just a hollow shell without a soul. She is tired of each day, doing everything, like she is the parent to her parents, and runs away when they fight, which is often. She never has time to relax. When she returns home, she makes dinner, eats more than she did for breakfast, as she skipped lunch, does the chores, does her homework, quietly gets into bed, and tries to go to sleep, smiling.

With tears running cold rivers down her cheeks, knowing that 

there is 

no 

end.