The Magic Doughnut
She sat in the interrogation room, waiting for the prognosis of her insanity. For the second time that day, she had been made to tell her story, the one about how she thought everything would kill her, her family, everyone. She was obsessive-compulsive, and she was hungry. Her mother bought her a honey bun from the vending machine, and she folded the wrapper so it wouldn’t touch her poisoned fingers. A piece of it dropped to her jeans. She hesitated, picked up the little doughnut chunk, and did the bravest thing she had ever done.

The Last Ride
She cried when her mom took the back wheels off her bike, the ones that had supported her through every endeavor. The risk was always there, but with training wheels, nothing seemed so treacherous. Her pink bike was the emblem of her cul-de-sac days, though the streamers had already been stripped and pulled away by the wind. Without it, she would be exiled. That afternoon, she cried and yelled and hated her mom, thinking she would never ride again.

She sat there on her new bed in her new apartment, thinking about how they had just left her at school for the first time ever. She wanted to close the door, but she didn’t want to shut out her roommates just yet. Tears welling in her eyes, she stared into her bathroom, rubber ducky themed with the shower curtain her aunt had bought her last summer. Everything in the room was hers- the blue patterned bedspread, the grandparent-given laptop, and the responsibility of finding her way around the school, the streets, the world. She hung her mother’s picture above the desk.