Mother, are you okay?" I asked, praying it was nothing related to me and Victor.
Mother was sick and stress was the last thing she needed.
The absolute last thing she needed was for her rebellious little daughter to finally send her to an early grave with news like that.
She didn't answer.
She gently pulled me upstairs, her grip firm but trembling slightly. She wasn't dramatic. That was the scary part. She was quiet.
Too quiet.
We climbed the stairs slowly. Each step felt louder than the music downstairs. My mind ran wild.
What if that fool Robert really did say something this time?
What if someone saw something?
What if—
Oh my guilt.
My guilt was killing me.
We got to my door and she paused, looking at it like she wasn't sure.
"This is your room, right?" she asked softly.
"Yes," I answered quickly, pushing the door open and signaling her to enter.
The door closed behind us with a soft click that felt louder than it should have.
