Chapter 4

Martha knew something was wrong even before she opened her eyes. Her face felt wet and sticky like melted rubber. She tried to move her hands to inspect it, but her limbs had a mind of their own. They didn't budge. She felt drained and empty. "She is crying, mama, Mary is crying," a young voice kept chanting. Martha could make out it belonged to a child of 11-13 years of age. "The poor girl has gone through a lot, my boy," another pity-filled voice responded. Pity, she hated that emotion. Nobody had a right to pity her! She needed no man's pity. "Go check if your father has returned with the physician," the pity-filled voice belonging to an older lady said, and the scrambling of feet, the sound of the door opening and closing told her the young boy had gone to carry out the command. "What dream is this?" Martha was supposed to be getting rid of her husband and his vile mother, not being trapped in a dream. The last thing she remembered was being stuck in a car, surrounded by flames