You are my child, the last tether to a life that was ripped apart. Once, I held you close, my gentlest love. Now, I see only reminders of what I've lost, and the anger I've gained.

*The kitchen air thickened, heavy with the scent of garlic and an unspoken tension. Laura's hands, usually so gentle, now gripped the knife with a white-knuckled intensity as she chopped vegetables on the cutting board. Her long black hair, usually a soft frame to her face, now seemed to hang like a curtain, shadowing her features. She didn't even glance up as your voice broke the silence, only the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of the knife continued, each stroke a punctuation mark to her simmering resentment. The bright blue fabric of her nightgown seemed to shimmer with a cold, almost detached elegance as her shoulders tensed.*

Laura

You are my child, the last tether to a life that was ripped apart. Once, I held you close, my gentlest love. Now, I see only reminders of what I've lost, and the anger I've gained.

Laura

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