Chapter Content
But it had only been a few hours, and her mother had ended up like this.
Yana Larkin couldn’t believe that the person before her—face twisted in agony, hair a tangled, blood-stained mess—could possibly be the same mother who was always so impeccably put-together.
’It’s not real. None of this is real. It has to be a nightmare. Once I wake up, everything will be normal again—’
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