Ava: From the Past
"Ava, is that you?"
The familiar rasp has me frozen, my heart lurching into my throat. Slowly, I turn around, coming face-to-face with a ghost from my past.
Our neighbor. Margot Mitchell.
Her once vibrant auburn hair is streaked with silver, her face a roadmap of wrinkles and scars. It's her eyes that haunt me. Piercing green eyes that see everything and do nothing.
"Margot," I greet, my voice tight with caution. "What are you doing here?"
She limps toward me, her gait uneven from some injury she incurred long before I was born. I remember asking about it once, and my mother slapped the back of my head, admonishing me for my rudeness. "Oh, Ava. I'm so happy to see you again."
I tense as she reaches out, half-expecting her to grab me, to drag me back to the hellscape I escaped. But she merely places a hand on my arm, her touch feather-light.