After I Wake Read Online Free Page A

nothing, and when I did feel, it was sorrow and self-pity? You want to talk about that? The scars all over my body from cutting my skin over and over and over again in a desperate attempt to feel anything.” I know I’m wallowing, but what is there to say?
    â€œCarter,” my mom says, then she is quiet for a moment. I look at her, expecting her to be fighting tears, but she is only staring at the ceiling. “When you came home that day after you lost your hand, there was a sadness in your eyes that vaguely worried me, but you took such good care of yourself that you seemed okay. But toward your, uh, attempt, you weren’t you anymore. I hoped it would go away and you would feel better. You did improve at one point; you were smiling and happy that day, and I thought I had you back. I thought you just needed your privacy and time to grieve, so I gave it to you.
    â€œBut you stopped writing poems, stopped being happy, stopped loving, stopped caring, and you ceased to be my daughter. But I didn’t realize until it was too late. I would have helped if I could, if I had known. But you were a master of disguise, and you kept everything hidden so well. You were always so mature. It was almost like you didn’t need me.” She smirks for a moment. “I thought that parenting was supposed to be way harder than it was for you.” She pauses to sigh.
    â€œThere aren’t any words to describe this. No actual words, no creative words, there is nothing. In all my years, I have never had or seen anything remotely like this happen. Not the hypothermia, not the frostbite, not what happened to your hand, none of it. The situation is anything but normal.
    â€œThen again, you are not a normal girl. You are special, Carter, and I’ve always believed that. No matter how hard the universe tries, it will never again be able to create someone exactly like you. What I don’t understand is why you would want to stop any of it.
    â€œBut you know, Otto Frank, the only survivor of those families that hid in the attic during the Second World War? He said once something along the lines of all children need to raise themselves. No disrespect to him, but if that’s how you think you need to raise yourself, you have another thing coming. Me.
    â€œCarter, you had opportunity after opportunity to come to me and get help and do something to get better. I’ve never thought suicide was the answer to anything. I could have helped you work through it.
    â€œSo now, I will be watching you like a hawk. I am your mother, and I have eyes in the back of my head. So, my baby, welcome home. I love you, but I’m not letting you have as much privacy as you did for a little while. And just for now, no Internet for you. I don’t want you near that blog of yours. You wrote that password into the note because you wanted me to see ‘who you really are,’ and I do not think that blog is healthy. I read every single post. And despite what the rest of the world thinks, I am quite savvy with your technology, and I do know how computers work. I’m a computer technician. I know every function of your laptop, some that I bet you don’t even know. For now, I’ve taken the liberty of expropriating your laptop. The only computer with Internet is the password-protected one in my office. If you go online, I will be right there. Since I’ll be working, I can make sure I’m here and doing what needs to be done as your mother. Capisce ?”
    I must admit that I am shocked and duly impressed with my mother’s computer skills. I had no idea that she knew how to do that. I don’t really know all that much about my mother, I suppose.
    â€œThat was incredibly comprehensive. What about all the homework I have to make up? I missed the majority of February and part of March, and then May and now it’s July and school ended already, which I can’t go back for.” My begging excuse is