SIXTY-SEVEN.

As I walk into the villa, I remove my shoes and carry them up the staircase with me. I free my hair from the clutches of my hair tie and make it halfway up the stairs before I hear my mother calling my name.

“Amelia, darling…” Her voice is gentle, filled to the brim with unsaid emotions that I can somehow sense.

I slowly pivot, dropping my shoes the moment our gazes collide, I run down the stairs and throw my arms around her neck when I reach the bottom.

“Mama…” I whisper, gulping back the tears threatening to stain my cheeks with grief.

My mother wraps her arms around my body, crushing me to her as she runs her fingers through my hair.

“It’s okay, my beautiful darling girl. You are safe… you are safe…”

It takes everything in me not to break down into a blubbering mess in her embrace.

We survived, managing to escape unscathed, physically. So why do I feel like an emotional wreck?

“Are you okay?”

The sound of my father's voice has me pulling back from my mother, and I stare at him be