Squinting my eyes as the warm glow of the Christmas tree lights spread into star-like shapes, I glanced at the cricket bat leaning against the corner of the living room wall.

The loud crackling sounds from policemen’s walkie talkies crashed through me. Hearing my mom beg her dad to not make her go.

Before opening her eyes, she awakens to a racing heart as a surging wave of dread rushes through her. The red digital numbers on her nightstand shout 5:38. How will she get through this day?