Ava's Point of View
The door groaned as I pulled it open.
It smelt of lavender and death.
My old room is stuck in time.
The wallpaper had not peeled. My childhood books were still arranged on the shelf. The ballerina lamp on the nightstand gleamed dimly, as if it had just been turned off. I stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind me.
Rachel Point of View
"Ava!" I hammered on the door, attempting the handle. It would not budge. "Open the door!" No response. Then I heard her voice: garbled, muttering something.
But she was not speaking to me.
Ava Point of View
She stood in a far corner.
A woman wrapped in gloom, her face obscured by smoke and memory twisted together. But I knew who she was.
My Mother.
But she didn't look right. Too tall. Too s
