YEARS AGO.“No, Mama,” the little girl wails, clinging to her mother. Her tiny fists knot into the folds of Adeline’s cloak, her voice trembling with terror. “I don't want to stay here.” Adeline’s heart shatters, but she swallows the sob clawing its way up her throat. She crouches low, pressing her forehead to her daughter's. “You must, my love,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “They’ll find you if you stay with me.” The girl wonders if the 'they' means the man with claw-like hands that ripped out her father's heart while she hid trembling in the attic or the strange figure her mother once worked for, the one who died in the fire she accidentally caused when she scrambled from under the bed and knocked over a candle. Her tiny fists tighten around her mother's cloak, tears streaking down her chubby cheeks. “ I'm sorry , Mama. I’ll be quiet, Mama! I’ll hide!” Adeline grips her daughter’s face with trembling hands, forcing her to meet her eyes. “Listen to me, Freya. You are
آخر تحديث : 2025-11-16 اقرأ المزيد