Amelia’s little body jerked suddenly, startling all of us. Her eyes fluttered open, then rolled back, and she began convulsing again. Clara screamed, clutching her tighter.
Then, with a violent shudder, Amelia turned her head and vomited thick, dark blood. The sound was gut-wrenching. The blackish sludge splattered onto Clara’s blouse and the carpet.
And then—just as suddenly—she went still. Her chest rose slowly. She was breathing.
Clara gasped, choking on sobs. She pressed her ear to her daughter’s chest, her hands trembling.
“She’s breathing,” she whispered, almost in disbelief. She checked again, running her hands frantically over Amelia’s small body. “She’s really breathing.” Tears fell into the little girl’s hair.
I knelt down beside them, my own chest tightening with relief. “H
