AMELIA.
The door slammed open with such force that it rattled the walls. And in the blink of an eye, my mother was standing in the doorway, her face pale and panic-stricken, her eyes wild with worry. She looked like she hadn't slept in days-like the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders and she was on the verge of breaking under it.
“Amelia!” Her voice cracked as she rushed to my side, almost tripping over her own feet in the frantic urgency to get to me. “Oh my God, what happened to you? Who did this to you, sweetheart?”
She dropped to her knees beside the bed, her trembling hands reaching out to touch my face as if she were trying to reassure herself that I was real. That I was alive. Her touch was soft, but her fingers felt like ice against my skin. Her face was streaked
