"It's me, Penelope. It's Mom."
For a second, Nina's heart stopped. Before she knew it, she snatched her hand away in surprise. Holding her arm close to her chest, she took a step back. Her eyes darted to the woman's face. The latter's features were wrinkled, and the area under her eyes was hollowed—she looked older than most people her age.
"It's me," said the elderly woman, her hand pressed across her chest. She took another step forward, making Nina take a step back. "My little Penelope."
Nina's heart thudded, and her lips quivered. "No," she whispered. "I'm not—"
Before Nina could do anything, she turned around and rushed back to the back entrance of her home. But the woman quickly followed and grabbed her arm.
"My daughter, it's me!" The woman slapped her chest as she desperately said, "I'm your mother! I—"