“Dinner time!” my mother yelled up the stairs to me. The smell of her delicious food wafted in the air as I walked down the stairs. My body felt lighter from just the smell of it. I saw my favorite dish on the table, the hot broth bubbling in the pot. It was the best soup of all time, mushroom risotto. My mother said she had tried a new recipe for this. “I’m a little nervous to try it, but I’m sure we’ll enjoy it,” she said. She dished out the plates and on mine, I saw the familiar mushroom risotto I always loved. But when I went to eat it, the texture horrified me. It was like I was eating slime. All of a sudden I noticed my brother missing. “Mom, where’s Jack?” I said nervously. “Oh, I’m surprised you noticed! He’s the key to this recipe.” I stopped, put my food down, and sat there staring at her. “What’s the matter?” my mother whispered. My jaw locked, did I hear her right? Suddenly, she said in a stern voice “Eat up, your brother didn’t die for this risotto just for you not to eat it.” She glared at me, a look I had never seen on her. That was not my mother. My mother resumed, “What should I have for dessert? I was thinking apple crumble, I’m sure I’d love it.” I was still stuck there, afraid of who this woman in front of me was. “Well, if you’re just going to sit there I might as well make dessert. Come here and help your mother.” I stayed still. “Get up,” she shouted. I stood up cautiously, eyeing the backdoor of our house. “Oh come on, you’re not trying to escape are you?” my mother said with snake eyes. My heart pounded and I thought I was going into shock, my eyes started to blur, and shrieking pierced my eardrums. The last thing I saw before death was my mother, rushing to me with tears filling her eyes, screaming for help. Not the previous version of her, but the mother I knew and loved, worrying for her little girl just like she always had.