Today's OneWord: Rifle

Before I could beg her to stop, my mother had ripped the drawers straight out of my dresser and began to rifle through them. With each scratching noise she made as she rummaged through my things, I could feel my throat constrict. I screamed at her, grabbed her arm and started to cry. But she would not stop. Not until she found exactly what she wanted, strike me across the face, and find a reason to kick me out.

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