Stella
My fingers curl around my mother's arm. I draw her closer to me, scanning the immediate environment that surrounds us.
Just up ahead, dawned in golden and white clothes, walks my old foster mother and sister, Clara. They were sadistic smiles on their faces, the fake, and plastic kind that one would see on killer, robots, or demons, pretending to be somebody they are not. The image of them sense chills down my spine, a tsunami of dread crashing over my body, making me feel ice cold as they slowly approach us.
They waves their arms in the air, bags colliding with one another. I turned to look up at my mother, a silent plea for her help in my time of need. She gives me a subtle nod and turns her attention back to the woman who enter our close vicinity.
“What do you want?” my mother
