Celeste’s POV
My head starts to spin and I feel Reed holding me up.
“Are you alright?” Reed asks. I steady myself.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“But my mother died of an illness when I was seven, which would make Annabelle six. There’s no way.” Ophelia let’s out a deep throat laugh.
“You don’t even remember your own mother’s death. You foolish child, you were there. You both came to visit us. Can’t you remember?” Her words echo in my head as I try to remember what happened all those years ago. And then like a flood gate opening, images start flashing through my mind.
Flashback
I’m seven years old, my mother and I are in a carriage together.
“How long until we get there?” I ask complaining.
“Are you excited or nervous?” My mother asks. She has long flowing chestnut brown hair and hazel e
