After several hours of staring at the walls in my room, I decide to try and visit with her again. Perhaps this time she won't throw things at me. Or things could take a turn for the worse. One never knows with her.

As I sit here scratching my neck, I walk to her room before I figure out what to say to her. When I arrive, I unlock it and cautiously enter because it is too quiet. I was wise to hesitate, because over the next few minutes, I am pummeled by a teenager's fists on my arm and ...