AMARA’S POINT OF VIEW.

“Amara.” My mother gasps in shock, her face contorting in horror; the complete opposite of the blissful one that she had earlier, much to my horror.

Someone please tell me there’s bleach for the mind, so I can scrub this from my memory box immediately. Scratch that, what I need is something I can take to wipe my memory.

Someone please!

“Amara, turn around.” My dad gasps, and frankly, he didn’t have to tell me, because I turned ...