Victoria broke out from the hug. There was so much she wanted her mother to explain to her: so much she wanted to digest. It sounded surreal the more she contemplated the subject. Eighteen years! Eighteen years was truly a long time. Did her mother birth another child during that time frame; a more beautiful suckling who easily displaced her mother's sorrow away from her heart? Because it just seemed too impossible to accept: the fact that the queen searched for only a time, stopping once she heard her baby was dead. Did she not feel the longing desire to hold her 'supposedly dead' baby in her arms one more time? To smother her perfectly cold skin with familial kisses? How was it possible that Veronika could move on so quickly? Unless there was something hidden behind the lonely doors of a dark closet.
A skeleton?
