The Price of "Normal"

Summary

The year of the gas leak, Mom instinctively carried out my crying little sister first.

By the time the paramedics pulled me from the kitchen, the lack of oxygen had permanently frozen my mind at the age of five.

For the next thirteen years, Mom held me to sleep every night, crying and swearing that she would never leave me behind again.

When Dad went on business trips, he would FaceTime me, coaxing me to count the little glow-in-the-dark stars on my bedroom wall.

That was, until the day my sister Chloe got her acceptance letter to Stanford. Mom asked her what she wanted as a reward.