Aria.
I stirred awake to the feeling of fingers brushing against my forehead, my mothers touch pulling me from the comforts of sleep. For the first time in months, I had slept well, and despite the scratchy blanket and stiff, thin mattress beneath me. There had been no nightmares, no angry shouts of Mrs Holt.
Instead just warmth.
Not the warmth that came from the small fireplace that burned in the middle of the room but the warmth that came from having my parents close by.
Blinking in the dim of the light, I woke up to find my mother kneeling beside me and stroking my hair, a gentle smile on her lips. Her brown hair climbed to her skin because it was damp.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” She murmured her voice soft as she helped me sit up and I rubbed my eyes and looked to see my father s
