“I’m going to bed,” she said when she was finished; Bluebell couldn’t argue. Phoebe hobbled upstairs, blanket draped over her shoulders and dragging behind her in lumps.

When she got to her room she tossed it onto her mattress, crawled underneath, and fell into a deep sleep as the first light of morning touched the tips of her ears.

Upon awakening, her first thought was that she wanted to sleep longer. Curling under the covers, Phoebe buried herself deep inside them. The rhythm of the air conditioning fighting summer heat and the muffled voices from downstairs lulled her in and out of slumber. But neither of them were enough to put her back to bed entirely. After some time, she stirred and her heart began to pound, determined to let her rest no longer.

She sat up and stretched- gently, she caught herself. Even though they’d been rendered useless by her own ability, she didn’t want to tug at Bluebell’s stitches. Checking her phone revealed that she’d slept until mid-afternoon. Part of her wanted to know if anyone had made lunch, but the rest of her wanted to remain cooped up forever. Mostly, Phoebe wanted to knock herself unconscious because she no longer knew who she was. She was always going to go to college, to make her family happy.

“The debt will be worth it,” her aunt had said. “Your mother would be so proud to see you going to a good school.” It was one of the last things her aunt had spoken to her about in person, shortly before boarding a train and leaving Phoebe to live alone after her 18th birthday.