The day started out as your typical summer morning of a teenager, trying to sleep in late. Little did I know that I would soon be involved in an incident that would forever change my outlook on life. As usual, I was spending the night at my friend Sarah Hall's house. The night before, Sarah's mom, Barbara, had told us that she and her husband were going to leave in the morning to help a friend.
I remember the door opening slowly, allowing the bright hallway light to enter the room. Barbara shook me lightly and said, "Kendra, time to get up. You and Sarah need to eat some breakfast and get ready for a new day." I wish I had listened to her;
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