Meredith, The Thorn by My Side

Draven.

Silence stretched between us as I studied my mother's face. Time had barely left a mark on her.

Her skin was still smooth, untouched by wrinkles. Her youthfulness was the only gift her illness had given her. But as I stared into her distant black eyes, I saw how much it had stolen as well.

She had been battling it for two decades, worsening after she gave birth to my younger brother. She had never been the same after that.

"You don't remember me?" I asked quietly. "I was here six months ago, and you already can't remember?"

Her delicate brows furrowed at my words. A hand lifted to her temple, rubbing lightly. "I'm sorry," she murmured, voice gentle, hesitant. "My head… it's a little messed up sometimes."

I exhaled softly, keeping my voice steady. "Mother, it's me. Draven."