Personal Narrative: A Short Story: The Story Of A Story

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That morning I woke up and didn’t see her in bed I had a feeling something was wrong. My mom was on the couch with a cigarette lit in her mouth. I remember looking in the ashtray and noticing it was filled with butts. She had the house between her face and shoulder while smoking. Her entire facial expression told me she was extremely worried about something. “WHERE IS MY F******* DAUGHTER” my mother yelled. At that point my heart was racing. I was so confused. I kept trying to figure out the conversation until I noticed it was with herself. She pressed the end button and then threw the phone on the table. She sat down hopeless. But 2 seconds later she was picking up the phone to make another call. “Hello. I called earlier this morning around 2am to report my daughter missing. I know I have to wait 24 hours but I am extremely nervous that she is in a dangerous situation” she told what seemed to be the police. I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other line. Tears kept running down my face. I ran upstairs to wake my brothers so they could be aware of what was going on. Soon after my mother hung up the phone. The police were knocking on my door. My mother was explaining to them that my sister had been out babysitting for a friend of hers last night and never returned. The cop was also a good friend of my mom’s. And as my mom was trying to explain the cop brings up how a mutual friend of theirs was pregnant. I could tell my mom was about to snap. “I’m trying to
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