"I want to go home," the little girl whispered. "Please let me go home." Tears streamed down her pink face.
A gloved hand grabbed her shoulder.
"You're home sweetie, you're home," came a low voice.
The little girl's blue eyes shined with tears as the gloved hand stroked her long blonde hair. She wanted to scream, to cry out, but she couldn't.
"Shhh, don't cry," the voice instructed her. "It makes me sad to see my daughter cry."
"I'M NOT YOUR DAUGHTER!" she screeched, pulling away from the hand.
"Yes… you are."
"I'm not your daughter!" she screeched again.
Silence. Then,
"You're right. It's not you, is it?"
The little girl screamed. Blood splattered up the wall.
"It's not you... Definitely not you…"
Not far away, in her own home, a young woman sat up in bed.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "So, so sorry."
