“Oh goodness Hazel. Shouldn’t you know by now you can’t give it to him from kissing?”

“Unless he has a sore in his mouth.” I was still in tears from the earlier events and now my mother was ripping me about what I had done.

“So then you ask him if he has any sores in his mouth.” I laughed at how crazy that sounded, “Oh yeah. ‘Got any sores in your mouth?’ That’s not strange at all.”

“Answer this: did you want to kiss him?”

“Well…Yes but-”

“Then what’s the problem,” She asked. I crossed my arms across my chest and turned away from her.

Mom laid her hands on my shoulders and softly said, “Hazel, you don’t need to condemn yourself to Hell. If you were meant for that place, you wouldn’t have been given Liam,” I pretended to ignore her wise words, “Give in to what you want for once…instead of what the disease wants. My daughter will not be a puppet.”