New Girl
Time becomes meaningless when fear eats at your thoughts.
Her mother enters quietly, eyes red, hands trembling. “Is she breathing normally?” she asks, her voice weak, as if one wrong word might shatter her completely.
“Yes,” I whisper, though my voice cracks. “For now.”
She sits on the chair beside the bed, wiping her own tears. “I knew she was different,” she murmurs. “But I never expected… this.”
Neither did I.
No one did.
A hybrid.
A creature born of two impossible bloodlines.