Lady Photon did as she’d so often done, ignoring reason in favor of the emotional appeal. “You grew to love and trust Mark. You could grow to love and trust that little girl, too.”
■
Perhaps she could do that.
Perhaps she could.
Liar.
Who, Photon Mom?
Brandish stared at the teenaged girl. Amy couldn’t even look her in the eye. Tears were streaming down the girl’s face.
Ahh.
Hi.
How are you?
“Where’s Victoria?” Brandish made the question a demand.
“I’m so sorry,” Amy responded, her voice hoarse. She’d been crying long before anyone had showed up.
Oh fuck. She already freed Victoria of the calm spell and had a confrontation with her, didn’t she?
Brandish felt choked up as well, but she suppressed the emotion. “Is my daughter dead?”
The way she says “my daughter” in a way that almost says “my only daughter”… Owww.
“No.“
“Explain.”
“I- I don’t- No-” Amy stuttered.
She could have slapped the girl.
Amy, I get it, but you really need to say something to salvage this if you can.
“What happened to my daughter!?”
Amy flinched as though she’d been struck.
Again, the same implication that there’s only one. That Amy is not also “my daughter”.
That probably hurts more than the slap Carol didn’t give her.
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