Chapter Sixteen

That was her mother's way of telling her to leave. The seemingly hingeless door closed behind her as she walked out, questioning herself for the hundred and first time why her mother sometimes treated her like a piece of rag. Euphoric really to think that the old woman had started to change back when they'd moved to the countryside.

But no. Her mother was just as was worse as before. The energy had returned the day they'd received Alistair's information. The same day she'd dared to ask her mother about her father.

Her father. Well, that was another topic on it's own. Tragic that Layla didn't even know a thing about him, talk less of knowing what he even looked like. Her mother had utterly refused her of knowing anything about him and would shut her up every time she attempted to ask. And the day she'd seen those pictures, with the cut out parts and burn patches, she just knew her curiosity wouldn't let her. They were pictures of the younger version of her mother, pictures of her mothe