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1219 Words

Thorn. “I’m getting better, Thorn. You don’t have to look at me like that.” Maddy says, and I help her prop up the pillows of the bed, her pallid face now held a faint blush of color, while her eyes, once dimmed by illness, now sparkled with a renewed vitality. “You have been bedridden for two weeks.” I say to her and she looks at me in shock. “I can’t believe Brad hated me to death. How? How am I even alive?” Maddy asks, a flicker of wonder dances across her features, mingling with the remnants of fear that still clung to her fragile frame. Aunt Susan walks into the room with fresh towels and a housekeeper who is holding a plate of warm porridge. “How can you not believe it? Didn’t Delilah warn you? Leave the porridge on that table, please.” Aunt Susan says and I look back at her.

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