A week had gone by since the convention. I tried not to think about it. A few hours after I'd returned home and talked to Dad, I had burst into yet another fit of tears. I couldn't bear the thought that Mom had left me of her own will.

Dad was struggling, also. He almost never spoke of Mom. When Louise came over, he tried to avoid the subject, but it was hard. Dad had to work almost thirteen hours a day to be able to keep up with the money end of things. The search for Mom was not going well. 

Today, I had tried to retreat to The Hideout, but that hadn't worked either. Though just a day ago I had wanted to be reminded of Mom more than anything, it seemed that I didn't want to even hear her name now. Anything to keep me from being reminded that she had left me. Hadn't she loved me?

Life seemed to be a piece of white paper, crumpling around me. I no longer wanted to see anybody. I shut out the world and never left my room. I stayed and cried most days, and as often as he tried, Dad couldn't make me feel that life was going to be the way it used to be once more. I knew from  experience that it wasn't going to be. 

Life just didn't seem worth living anymore. Especially since I had stopped drawing.

The End

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