A woman—one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen—with jet black hair and golden eyes, running towards me with anguish streaked across her face. The desperation in her movements made me want to reach out, but the pain was too great, too much. I was moving away from her—floating, or flying? She screamed something, but I couldn’t hear her, as if my eardrums had gone numb. And then it was black again.
NOO HIS SISTER IM DYING MY THATCHER
