ALMA

"Is Velma my daughter?"

The question hit in the chest like a stab wound, and I started to bleed, but he didn't see. This facade had been practiced for five years. I didn't see the need to break it now or ever.

That question had power, the expectant gaze in his eyes wielded more strength, and I just stood there, feeling my bones turn to jelly- almost lifeless and pale like a porcelain doll. The freezing atmosphere of the room didn't help either. It felt as though I could break if I moved ...