Healing From Toxicity

Hi Fam,

I remember sitting in my science class a few years back on what seemed like a typical morning. It was a mundane day, like any other.

Except, the PA speaker system in my school was more active than usual. Several students were being summoned with all their personal belongings to the main office.

It was out of the ordinary, but it didn’t bother me—until my name was called.

My mother never picked me up early from school without a heads-up text or call—it smelled like trouble.

But as I walked up to the principal’s office, there she was, waiting at the reception desk of the school.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“We’re under attack, son. We must go.”