In the photo, Xander held her. Even now, I was amazed at how much she looked like his side of the family, with her red hair and light eyes. ‘She sho...ld be outside riding her bike,’ I sobbed, putting my head on Xander’s shoulder. ‘It’s nobody’s fault she died the same night she was born,’ he put his arms around me, ‘the bridge was out, the ambulance didn’t get here in time when she stopped breathing. You’re a good mother and you did everything right for her.’ ‘Then how come it’s been SEVEN LONG. I could see her through the small window, her body limp from fatigue, but a tiny spark lying just under the surface of her pale skin, ready to fight at any given time. That was one thing I loved about her, her strong sense of self preservation, it made the process of breaking her so much more desirable. From my angle I could trace every shadow along her toned long legs. The strain of being spread so wide elongating and enhancing each thick thread of muscle. Despite the stark lighting from the. More

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