Name: Annabelle Ambrose<br/>Time: Friday, 4:46<br/>Location: Upstairs Landing, Master Bedroom<br/>Target: Taylor Ambrose<br/><br/>The voice of my mother cuts through my reverie of voyeurism. I am snapped back to reality so cruelly.<br/><br/>"Holy Shit Mother!" I petulantly respond.  "Sneak around and scare people much?" I snarkily follow up while grabbing my backpack and walking towards her.<br/><br/>It is so childish to still seek attention through such means. I do love mommy and it has hurt that I was invisible to her. Almost worse than invisible. Hostile sometimes. Put I have been far too scared to ask why because her answer could shatter me as someone confirms that in truth I am really nothing special.<br/><br/>Truth is I secretly worship my mother. She is gorgeous,  smart, funny. She has such a way with people and all adore her. I remember all the times we would dress in matching outfits when I was younger. How she taught me to apply makeup and accessories.  How to take care of my body when I reached that age. She was my model in all things. I had hoped she always would be. Whatever she taught me, I would be.<br/><br/>But that is the inside and all teens know you keep that inside or else someone will hurt you with it. So all snark and sass I brush by my mom and enter the master bedroom, rolling my eyes as I pass her giving a huffy "I am not a baby, Mother" I cross my arms as I stabd at the foot of her king sized bed and tap my foot wondering  why now ...