89: Bitter

I step outside and close the door hurriedly behind me.

I'm lightheaded. I can't quite believe that this is happening. What's my mother doing here? This is surreal. I'm speechless. I finally turn to face her and I don't know what to say. My mouth is dry, like I've swallowed sand.

She says, "Hello, Amelia."

I look around. If there's anyone listening, I'll have some serious explaining to do. Her tone is cold and distant, like she doesn't know me at all. I say, "I can't believe you're here."

"You and your brother didn't give me a choice," she says in that strange tone. "You said you were in trouble, and I came to help you."

I frown. "That doesn't explain how you found me. And oh, mom. You can't help me. No one can."

"I know everything," she admits, and it's like a blow to my stomach. "Had I known what Devon's intentions were, I would've never allowed you to leave with him. But he promised to give you a good job, and we needed the money." Hearing her talk this way is odd. This tone, these