Seven
Freya stood in the hospital-room doorway, the semi-drawn curtains not allowing enough light in, while the cream-colored decor lacked in personality and somehow added to the weight of what she was about to step into.
She ran her fingertips over the emerald glass beads at her neck, stealing a moment for courage and not bothering to cover the nervous tell, even as she pressed her shoulders back and strode forward.
Four beds filled the room, though only two had people in them. Her mother lay in the farthest corner, her gaze lost on the cityscape through the window to her right. Her washed-out sandy hair sat in tangled waves around her head, and her blue veins glowed through now pale, thin, skin stretched over bony arms.
Freya paused, maybe holding onto some unlikely but persistent ho
