“Mum, it’s me Leah,” I said in fear. She shook my hands away from hers, moving back towards the bed.
“Am I supposed to know who you are?” She questioned with suspicion. The expression in her eyes made my heart twinge in pain, when she stared at me like I was a stranger.
“It’s me Leah. I’m your daughter,” I repeated this time, pleading for her f****d up brain to believe me. But just like always—she laughed.
“Who are you girl? Are you lost? I don’t have a daughter, please get away from me,” she asked, sitting in a protective stance on the bed, as if she were expecting me to attack.
“I’m not lying. Don't you remember mum—me—Leah Harnes, the daughter you birthed, with the love of your life—Robert Harnes,” I replied, pleading and begging for her to remember me.
I watched in hurt as her fa
