The Girl Who Hated Being Different
I look at the clock. It’s almost midnight and I have to go again.
I’ve visited the bathroom seven times in the last two hours. The need to pee is urgent and unrelenting. Every time I come out of my bedroom, I pass by my father who has a worried look on his face. He’s probably counting every trip right along with me, but it’s clear he doesn’t know what to do about it.