I slowly walked towards the small wooden door. My small Mary Janes made little or no sound as I neared closer. My mother had just told me to feed her, and i was doing so, for she would never do it herself. As I reached for the glass door k**b,a tingling feeling shot up my arm and through my whole body.I became stiff and petrified. But, this was the same feeling that overcame me everytime.I took a deep breath and opened the door, slowly, so that it wouldnt make the slightest sound. I turned to face her, hunched over on the same old,oak bed and thrashed matress. She was nearly 13 yrs. older than me, but still lived with us and there was a reason, a frightening reason.Even though we heard her screaching cries for help, all through the night , we never helped her,never. I looked straight into her bloodshot eyes, and she met mine.She seemed to be staring straight into my soul. It was unsettle, so I soon looked away. I paced towards the rickety bed, and studied her.
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