SHAY
"Shay." A woman's voice was calling out to her. It was a sweet voice, one that could lull you to sleep. But this woman didn't seem to soothe her to sleep.
"Shay, baby." Her once sweet voice was now laced with urgency.
Hands.
She felt soft, warm hands gently caressing her face. This woman was trying to wake her up.
However, she can't seem to move. Her eyes would flutter open, but she can barely keep them that way. She felt so drained. Her energy was completely depleted; it was as if she was frozen. Her hands felt like cement. She couldn't feel her legs.
Why can't she feel them?
Why can't she move?
Why can't she wake up?
"Mo-mommy." She whimpered.
"Kristof!" she heard her mother call out frantically.
Kristof. That was her father's name: Kristof Reynolds, a prosecutor.
