"Amanda!" I hear from my mothers cries downstairs, I rush down to see her on the sofa, pale and weak. I hold on to her Hand as she whispers in my ear "Don't let go" I force my hand into my pocket to pick out my phone, my mothers hand still locked onto mine. But it's too late. She's gone.
The only thing I can think of right now is "Don't let go" that phrase constantly repeated over and over.
A taste of
The Girl Who Imagined