Sheila stared at her mother's face, distraught with fear and panic.
She remembered this dream. She had seen it so many times before.
No… it wasn't a dream, was it? It was a memory she had pushed into the back of her mind. She did not want to remember this, but she did.
This was one of the things she had always tried to get rid of but never could. But then again, this was the clearest of all her memories of her mother, so she wasn't sure if she wanted to.
Sheila was only a child back then, woken in the middle of her sleep by her mother. She pulled her out of the bed and carried her away while her father remained behind.
She could remember the back of her father's head. He had begun graying around the temples by that point. She tried to remember more of him but somehow failed to each time.
Was she that bad of a daughter?
