Most of the tweets aimed at my family are supportive and kind. They mention praying for my mom and hoping our family is able to make it past this. But there is a small but very loud group that wants us to know how much they hate us. They call my mom all kinds of horrible names and paint her to be some domestic terrorist with evil intent.

Seriously?

Are they talking about the same woman who put a funny voice to the bottle of cough syrup so I’d take my medicine? The woman who tears up watching Toy Story 4, no matter how many times she sees it? The very same woman who has yet to cash a paycheck and not hand some of it to someone in need?

My mom, evil?

So, stop looking, Ayo. Stay away from social media!

But I can’t stop. I keep looking deeper and deeper into the chasm. I tell myself to log off, but I can’t. I click on a link from one of the users who tagged me; it leads to a homemade GIF of an old-school video game, where the duck has a target on its face. The person has replaced the duck’s face with a picture of my mom.

I run to the bathroom, hug the rim of the toilet bowl, and throw up everything I ate today. And just when I think I am on empty, I throw up yet again. I hug my knees and rock back and forth in a futile attempt to calm down. I vow to myself that I won’t cry. I remind myself that hate isn’t new; only the packaging changes. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. Nothing makes it hurt less.

It’s another hour before I leave the bathroom. I had to wait for my tears to dry and the swelling around my eyes to go down. All I want to do right now is crawl into my bed, put the covers over me, and not wake up until morning. But I know that if I give in to this urge, I will sink back to the ocean floor, and this time, I will stay there. I don’t have it in me to pull myself back to the surface again.

How could anyone think that’s funny? How could anyone make light of something so devastating? I thought about calling Devonte but I didn’t because he has a chemistry test to study for and I don’t want to be the reason why he fails. And besides, I’d kind of like to be alone.

I go downstairs in an effort to distract myself. Nai is doing homework at the kitchen table and Uncle Ty is fixing dinner. I mutter something about needing fresh air and quickly make my escape before they can have a chance to ask me any questions, or offer to join me.