I wake up to the sound of sizzling oil and the smell of eggs. I bring my hands up to my face and I am met with caked blood on my wrists. It is not surprising anymore. I hear tiny feet pad down the hallway and my brother opens my door. “Ada, breakfast is ready,” Timothy says. I chuckle. He still has not managed to get his lisp under control. “Okay, thank you for waking me up, Tim. Let mom know that I’ll be up in just a second,” I reply. I stretch upwards. His round and chubby face lifts and his eyes widen at the sight of my wrists. I quickly clasp my hands in front of my chest…