Amari’s mother stood at the bedroom door, arms crossed and her jaw clenched. A heavy sigh was released from her mouth as she approached her daughter who was sheepishly sitting on her bed. Amari looks away, attempting to hide the bruise on her temple Akavishiel wasn’t able to heal fast enough.
“Look at me,” her mother snapped, grabbing her face.
Tears began to dribble down Amari’s cheeks. She tries to pull herself away from her mother’s grasp, but to no avail. “Mom, let go of me, p-please—“
“Is this your friends’ doing? Is it Maria?” She accused as she studied the bruise, “I swear, why is it that every time you go over there, you come home with bruises and cuts? They’re all bad influences, that’s what they are. None of your friends praise God like they should and neither does your aunt,”
She lets go of Amari, only to snatch her by the wrist. She pulls her off the bed, attempting to drag her out of the room.
“Your father will be hearing this, young lady—”
“Leave her be!” The disembodied voice of Akavishiel rang out, easily blanching the expression of Amari’s mother.
She glances around, feeling the intense sensation of invisible eyes staring into her. This voice hardly sounded anything like her daughter. She hastily lets go of Amari and without a word, she hurried out the room, slamming the door behind her.
Amari could hear her mother mutter fearful prayers as she left the room.