My hands wouldn't stop trembling, my heart wouldn't stop pounding. I was riding in a black, shiny car with padded leather seats. My sister sat next to me, driving.

She frowned and looked over at me, "I know it's hard, Em, but you're going to be alright."

I glared at her, "Why are you so okay with it?"

We didn't talk about 'it'. She specifically hadn't mentioned it to me ever since we buried him in a big hole in...

 Everyone has a safe place. It might be a certain nook or room. It could be a field of flowers or even the sky. For some, it is mental. Their imagination is their safe place. But mine are words. The way they can make people feel things, or think things, that's what makes me love them. They tell stories and bring ideas to life. I love to write words and read them. They calm me and bring me to other...