They told me she was gone. They said it was okay. That this was common for humans. I needed to accept it. She was human. It was normal for them. To die by simple wounds. They said this, they said that...
I didn’t care.
All I wanted was to see her, to touch her. To try and feel her spirit dancing in the air. With my red hair and my dark skin. My wide eyes and slender figure. We were the same image, and she was my rock.
Yet, she was gone. I would never see her, not even in the stars. My mother was irrevocably, and undeniably dead. There was no need to laugh or smile, for my happiness had been taken away, and I vowed to myself; I would avenge her. I hung on to the last thing she told me.
“Love is love, whether you want it or not. And I, little Ami, love you more than you know.”
My mother’s dead. My father is broken. My aunt is naggy. My sister is a troublemaker. And my godmother is the queen.
What a happy family.