“Mum, it’s me Leah,” I said in fear. She shook my hands away from hers, moving back towards the bed.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” She questioned with suspicion. The expression in her eyes made my heart twinge in pain, when she stared at me like I was a stranger.

“It’s me Leah. I’m your daughter,” I repeated this time, pleading for her fucked up brain to believe me. But just like always—she laughed.

“Who are you girl? Are you lost? I don’t have a daughter, ...