Chapter Text
Amelia Pond’s life had finally gone back to normal.
Her normal. Pond Family Normal. The normal that involved planets in peril and time travel and aliens and a wonderful madman in a box.
Every night she got into bed and felt Rory’s weight shift and settle beside her. She would rest her head on his chest and listen to his heart as he ran a hand through her hair. Amy would let herself disappear into his warmth.
Every night, she woke up gasping for air and drenched in sweat. There were invisible hands reaching for her, finding the parts of her that no one should have ever touched and tearing them away.
She would throw off the blankets and stumble into the hallway. Amy would struggle for air, leaning against the wall. Then she would wander. She would walk through the house, searching without success for a room where she didn’t feel like she was being watched.
Ever since she had returned from Demons Run, Amy could always feel eyes on her. Her skin would crawl whenever she was alone even though she had gone weeks without speaking to anyone on that godforsaken asteroid, her every move had been surveilled.
They could still be watching her now. Madame Kovarian was still alive. And she was watching her.
She was watching Amy sleep and she was watching Amy eat and she was watching Amy sob and scream as she struggled through childbirth without her husband or her friend or a single familiar face and she had been so alone and someone was always watching they were watching and someone in latex gloves had come for the baby and Amy didn’t want them touch her and she didn’t want them to take her daughter and strangers were watching it all happen and there was cold metal pressed against soft parts and everyone could see and they were watching they were watchingwatchingwatchingwatching
She would realize her search for somewhere safe was useless, that every room was full of invisible eyes. Amy would go back to bed and Rory would pull her in again. He was a light sleeper, it was a necessary part of his work. He always woke up when she did.
He never went after Amy when she went to wander the house. He was being careful, she knew. He had just been welcomed back into her life. They were both terrified of losing each other again.
Rory was afraid of coming on too strong. Amy was afraid of driving him away once again.
Neither of them ever spoke about it.. What happened in the darkness stayed in the darkness. Things reset as soon as the sun rose. But both of them knew, sooner or later, that they would have to stop avoiding it.
For the time being, however, Amy would simply burrow into his embrace and beg every god in every universe that they would still be together when she woke up.
That was how they lived. Delicate peace and absolute terror running parallel to each other. Two separate worlds that never touched.
Pond Family Normal.
✩
They were having the Doctor over for dinner. His presence used to bring Amy nothing but joy. The sound of the TARDIS and his irresistible smile used to fill her with giddy excitement.
Now, all those wonderful things had soured. When she saw the Doctor, Amy saw a man she’d once held at gunpoint. A man who had brought her to safety, but had failed to do the same for her daughter.
He had saved the wrong girl. He had taken the one that didn’t matter.
Even if she knew what a wonderful woman Melody would grow up to be, Amy was still missing everything the other mothers talked about. First words, first steps, first day of school. All the messiness of her teenage years. Her first date, prom, graduation, her first job. Every ordinary thing. Things you thought were a given. A guaranteed part of watching your child grow up.
Things she would never have. Amy would watch her friends raise their kids and attend every event and celebrate every birthday and be so so proud.
No one would ever even see Amy as a mother.
She tried not to think about that too hard.
Amy sighed. She was failing spectacularly at not thinking about it.
The Doctor didn’t know how hard nights were. Rory had made Amy promise that she would tell him eventually. The good thing about “eventually” was that it was not a day that ever had to arrive. You could keep putting it off for as long as you wished.
And today would be another day that went by without anyone needing to confess anything.
~
There was a familiar whirring sound in the backyard. Amy heard the glass door open, and suddenly familiar arms had been thrown around her from behind.
“Amelia Pond!” The Doctor cried. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
She spun around to face him. However much things may have changed, she couldn’t help the smile that came when she saw him.
“Doctor!” She was grinning, she couldn’t help it. He was still her best friend. Amy pulled him into her arms, crushing him into a hug.
“Hello, Pond.”
“Doctor! Hi!” Rory’s voice called from the doorway to the living room. Amy let go of the Doctor, who bounded over to her husband and hugged him as well.
“Look at you!” The Doctor sounded overjoyed. He grabbed Rory’s hands, pulling him into the room and lining him up next to Amy. He took a step back and clapped excitedly. “Pond family! Back together again!”
Something twisted in Amy’s stomach. He was ignoring the obvious. Someone was missing, she always was. But it wasn’t the time.
“And whose fault is that?” she quipped. “We haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“Ah.. right.” The Doctor looked somewhat guilty, obviously avoiding Amy’s gaze. “I’ve been a bit busy. You know… saving a new arrangement of galaxies and planets.” He gestured vaguely. “But that’s not important right now.”
He jumped onto the couch, holding his arms out and beckoning for Amy and Rory to join him. “How are you? Surely something exciting must have happened?”
He watched the pair excitedly as they settled onto the couch on either side of him. Amy wrapped her arms around her middle and tucked her head into the Doctor’s neck. The emptiness inside her felt humiliatingly visible.
Her eyes flicked upwards. The Doctor was frowning down at her. Amy wrapped her arms around herself a little tighter. It was those eyes. They had seen so much, and they saw right through her.
His eyes were those of a man whose body was too young for his mind. They bore into her. Pierced Amy’s soul.
“Nothing that would interest you.” Her head fell onto his shoulder. “Work, bills, that kind of thing.”
Amy felt the Doctor shudder next to her, and she giggled. She wondered what he would be like if he was human, forced to live the same routine as the rest of them.
“Good thing I’m there then,” he said. “Someone’s gotta get you Ponds out of this bloody rut.”
The Doctor tried to stand up, but Rory stopped him with a hand on his knee.
“None of us are running off anywhere,” he said, and Amy smiled at her husband.
“That’s right,” she agreed. “We told you you’d stay for dinner. That was an invitation,” she smirked at him, “it was an order.”
Soon enough, Amy and Rory had managed to wrangle the Doctor into a place at the table. Once they’d finished the main course, Amy proudly presented them with a bowl of custard, a plate of fish fingers, and three new dishes.
“Oh, brilliant!” The Doctor laughed, he and Amy exchanging satisfied glances, much to Rory’s confusion.
“What is this?” he asked, as Amy busied herself with getting herself and the Doctor their own portions of custard.
“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed. “Haven’t I told you?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Really?” The Doctor said in disbelief. “You haven’t let Rory in on our culinary masterpiece? He’s your husband.”
“Oh, shut it!” Amy waved her hand in his direction, “I’m doing it now.”
She passed Rory a plate and nodded.
“Try it,” she said, “and I’ll tell you the story behind it.”
He rolled his eyes and dipped one of the fish fingers into the puddle of custard on his plate. Satisfied, Amy launched into the story. “When I was a little girl, you know, the very first time I met the Doctor…”
As Amy spoke, the three eventually found their way back to the couch. The sky had darkened and the clouds had covered the moon. She had grabbed a blanket and draped it over the three of them as they talked. Amy was only half-listening, having been consumed by exhaustion as soon as her body hit the pillows.
The Doctor and Rory were talking. No doubt the latter was being teased for the way he lived his life. How boring and ordinary he was. The things that excited Amy and Rory seemed so dull to the eccentric alien.
But then again, the things that excited adults seemed pathetically monotonous to children. The Doctor behaved like an easily delighted child. Refusing or simply unable to comprehend that not everything needed to be some grand adventure to be worth noting.
Amy yawned, and she pulled her knees to her chest, situating herself so that she was draped across the Doctor, her head in Rory’s lap. Her eyes felt heavy. The Doctor had promised to sleep over with them, at her insistence. Even when angry, she still spent every day apart from him wishing he was there.
In the back of her mind, she wondered if maybe she could spend one night free of terror. Surely, with her husband and her best friend in the same place, she’d be granted a singular peaceful rest.
How many people in how many worlds slept free of nightmares because they knew that the Doctor would come if they called? If even the distant possibility of his protection could keep people feeling safe and secure in sleep, the most vulnerable of states, Amy had to be alright knowing he’d promised to be just in the next room.
She felt the Doctor thread his fingers through her hair, Rory’s hand on her shoulder. It had been a long time since she’d memorized the distance between their touch.
Rory was steady and warm. Amy knew she would always be able to rely on him. She could not have imagined why she had ever run from this man. He had suffered for 2000 years to make sure that she would be safe. He had fought and hurt for her. His touch was an anchor.
The Doctor was gentle, almost afraid. His guilt, his fear of being too forward with a woman he’d had to leave again and again was tangible. Amy had lost count of the years she’d spent waiting on him, but she’d never loved him less.
He was her best friend. He had been, even since he had been supposedly just a figment of her imagination.
“Well, Pond,” the Doctor muttered, “seems like you might need some sleep.”
“I’m fine,” Amy groaned, unconvincingly. It was as if as soon as she’d sat down, all the strength had been sapped from her body.
“Right, come on.” Rory stood up, and hoisted Amy to her feet. She giggled and slumped against him. He smiled down at her, and at that moment she felt as though her heart might burst.
Amy felt the Doctor’s hands on her shoulders, and purposely made a show of how not tired she was as the three made their way to the bedroom.
“Come on!” she shrieked with laughter as she tumbled onto the bed, grabbing Rory’s hand and pulling him down with her. They landed on top of each other in a tangled pile of limbs. “It’s not even late. I’m a grown woman!”
“Well, it’s not like you’ve been sleeping,” Rory shot back. Amy froze, watching her husband’s eyes widen as he realized exactly what he had said.
The Doctor’s eyes flicked between the two of them, his confusion evident on his face.
“You’re not sleeping?” He frowned, and Amy felt guilt thrumming through her.
“Why’s that?” He tilted his head, and she felt even worse.
Those eyes of his… so full of concern and care. How could she tell him the truth?
She couldn’t. So instead, she threw a pillow at him. “Come on, Doctor. If you’re both insisting I go to bed now, you’d better get out of my room.”
“Right.” He fluffed the pillow and threw it right back at her. She caught it, smirking at him.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “If you haven’t been sleeping, for whatever reason, I’d better see you resting now.”
“Yes sir!” She said staunchly.
He wrinkled his nose and waved a hang in her direction. “Don’t do that,” he said, back up towards the door and fumbling for the light switch, his eyes never leaving the couple. “Sleep well, Ponds.
The lights turned off. The door closed. The sound of the Doctor’s footsteps faded as he made his way down the hall towards the guest room.
Rory shifted and pulled the blanket over the two of them. Amy rolled over into his arms and sighed.
“Sorry…” he muttered awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
It. This was the first time the topic of Amy’s nightmares had ever been broached, and in front of the Doctor, no less.
“It’s fine.” She said, the words feeling heavy on her tongue. They were talking about it. Amy didn’t want to talk about it. Talking about it made it all real.
Every moment alone. Every moment she’d spent under surveillance, choking down nutrient cubes and watching soldiers march through the window. Every hour that consisted of pacing, crying, and talking to herself so that in her solitude, she wouldn’t lose the ability to speak.
“Just… don’t tell him, Rory. Please?”
He’d blame himself, more than he already did. And, no matter how awful it made Amy feel, he wasn’t entirely wrong in doing so.
Rory pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Promise. Now let’s get you rested up.”
Amy nodded, another yawn escaping her. Her eyes began to drift shut, and felt her husband pulling her a little closer.
He may have promised not to tell the Doctor about her nightmares, but for some reason, Amy didn’t feel as though Rory was going to keep that promise.
✩
Rory hated lying to Amy. He would never have dreamed of going behind her back like this, not unless he really needed to.
Right now, he did need to. No matter how much time they spent ignoring it, Amy was in trouble. Rory knew that she liked to pretend that the nightmares were where her pain started and ended. By now, however, they both knew that was wrong.
He often caught her talking to herself. Muttering unintelligibly, staring off into space and needing Rory to try multiple times to bring her back to reality. Amy had never been distant like this before, but there was something so undeniably wrong about her now.
She dropped dishes, flinched from his touch, her eyes flicked nervously around every room, she’d go completely unresponsive for what felt like endless amounts of time.
One time, Rory had even caught her checking under the couch cushions. He had assumed she was looking for cameras. There was a wild, fearful look in her eyes. When he’d asked, she’d insisted that she had lost the TV remote.
The remote was sitting in clear view on the coffee table. Amy was a terrible liar.
Rory carefully untangled himself from the sheets and Amy’s embrace. The beginnings of a nightmare were already evident on her face. Lips pursed, brows furrowed, eyes squeezed tightly shut, sweat beading on her forehead.
It pained him to leave her like this, knowing she’d soon be caught in the throes of terror. His every instinct was screaming at him to wake her up.
You’ll just be in the other room, he told himself. Before slowly backing out of the room, taking extra care with the door so as not to disturb her any further.
Rory made his way down the hall and stopped in front of the guest room. Light was seeping through the crack underneath the door, casting a soft glow onto the carpet. He raised his hand and knocked.
“Come in!”
Obviously, the Doctor was still awake. He was sitting on the bed, still in all his day clothes. Rory’s guilt intensified. Amy had been so tired she’d fallen asleep without changing as well. She’d been so drained that even the Doctor couldn’t keep her awake.
“Rory!” The Doctor shot up in bed, grinning. “Come for a little late night chat? Shall I regale you with stories of my adventures? Would you like to hear about the time that I saved a bunch of people in a hospital after it got sent to the moon? Long time ago, but I think it’s a classic-”
“Doctor-” Rory began, but was immediately cut off by the other man. “-and did you know,” the Doctor continued, “that I actually picked someone up out of that hospital. You're not the first medical professional I’ve traveled with. I mean, blimey, she was brilliant. You would have loved her-”
“Doctor!
“Yes?”
“It’s Amy.”
The Doctor frowned. “No it’s not. Amy doesn't work in a hospital. That was Martha. And you I suppose. Amy-”
“No. Not that!” Rory snapped. “It’s Amy. She hasn’t been sleeping.”
“Oh. Yeah. You said.” His frown deepened. “I did think that was a bit odd. I mean, normally she’s able to sleep through anything. All those times the TARDIS woke you up, hah! She slept like a rock.”
Rory suppressed the urge to correct him. The TARDIS herself was blameless. However, Rory was frequently roused by the Doctor’s late-night experiments and escapades. The Time Lord had been correct about one thing, however. The end of the world wouldn’t have been enough to wake Amy, not before.
This was after. And the Doctor needed to know.
“She’s been having nightmares,” Rory said, steeling himself. “About Demons Run, Madame Kovarian. She wakes up every night and wanders around. I don’t think she feels safe. And I don’t know how to help her.”
There was something tight in his chest. His love and concern for Amy was a knot in his chest that made it hard to breathe.
“Sit down, Rory,” the Doctor said, patting a spot on the bed next to him.
He did, with some amount of difficulty. Something was wrong. Everything had been, for a long time, but something was wrong with Rory. His heart had frozen in his chest, there was ice in his veins, everything had suddenly gone blurry. He wasn’t sure why it was all so blurry.
He raised a trembling hand (why was he trembling?) to his cheek and it came away wet.
Ah. He was crying.
He felt the Doctor wrap his arm around his shoulder and pull him in. It was a surprisingly tender gesture.
Rory’s ears were ringing. Someone gently touched his cheek.
Someone was whispering to him. “Come on now, Pond.”
Somehow, Rory forced out a small, dry chuckle. “It’s Williams,” he croaked.
Things slowly came back into focus. The Doctor was smiling at him sadly. Rory wilted against him.
They locked eyes. Rory rested his head on the Doctor’s shoulder and wiped his nose with his pajama sleeve. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice thick with sadness.
“I just- she’s my wife. I need to help her, Doctor. But how can I do that?”
He felt his temper rising, his chest ached. He was so helpless and weak and stupid.
“She won’t even tell me what’s wrong!”
Rory jerked, slamming his hand onto the bed and pulling away from his friend. He rarely acted out of anger. And this wasn’t anger. It was despair, grief, and concern, rotted by time and directed at Amy.
“I know. I know!” The Doctor took Rory’s hands in his own. “I know. But you listen to me, Rory.”
His eyes were blazing with the same intensity that they did when facing down a threat.
“She needs you. Even if she hasn’t come to you for help, she needs you. Because you are Rory. Her rock, yeah?”
He reached up, and Rory felt the Doctor ruffling his hair.
“-and you,” the Doctor continued, “you are exactly who she needs right now. Not me. You.”
Rory’s world began to slow. It had been moving so quickly, words tumbling out of him like a waterfall. His thoughts had been racing, his worry for Amy boiling and burning inside of him. Those feelings now fell flat inside of him.
The clocks began to tick steadily once again.
Instead of feeling angry or afraid, he was exhausted.
It occurred to him that he had been sleeping even less than Amy. Every night, after she’d woken up and checked the house and fallen back asleep, Rory had stayed awake without her knowledge. He watched over her every night for any sign of a nightmare until he physically couldn’t anymore.
“Let’s talk to Amy tomorrow,” the Doctor said with finality. “At least let her know that we’re there. How’s that?”
“Yeah,” Rory nodded. “Let’s… let’s do that. But she doesn’t have to tell us anything.”
“That’s right!” The Doctor beamed. “Now you’re getting it! Everything on her terms. She needs help, but we can… ease her into it.”
Rory nodded in response, before yawning. He heard the Doctor laughing, before jumping to his feet and taking his hand.
“You have so much energy,” Rory groaned. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Biological advantage of being a Time Lord,” The Doctor quipped, leading him out the door and down the hall.
“Now, back to your wife, Mr. Pond. You look after her. And I’ll see you in the morning.”
The Doctor clapped once, before turning back down the hall and heading into his room.
Rory heard his door shut, and turned to face his own.
He prayed that the Doctor was right. That Amy would be okay.
✩
Amy’s eyes flickered open, the sunlight streaming through the windows was warm on her face. Letting out a soft, tired groan, she propped herself up on her forearms, her hair falling over her face.
Something was off. Something was missing…
Amy blinked. Then, she fell back onto the bed and laughed. It was ridiculous, she knew, and she must have looked completely mad. Yet, she couldn’t help herself. Amy shrieked with laughter.
She’d done it. One night, no nightmares. No aimless wandering of a dark house, no invisible figures watching her from the corners, no jumping at shadows, not a single tear shed.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had a night like this. It felt so good. She felt more than good, she felt amazing.
Her body had finally gotten a real chance to rest. Her limbs screamed at her, telling her to get up and run. To go as far as she could because she had finally gained back the strength to do so. Her mind was racing. She felt like she could do anything. She felt like she could go up against the Doctor in a battle of wits and win.
The door to the bedroom opened and, feeling suddenly embarrassed, her laughter trailed off.
The Doctor and Rory were standing in the doorway, confusion evident on both of their faces.
“Hi!” Amy shot up. She was smiling maniacally, smiling so wide her cheeks ached. She didn’t want to stop, she hadn’t smiled like that for so long.
She tossed her hair behind her over her shoulder. Neither of the two in the doorway spoke.
“Alright, boys?” She said playfully, smirking and shrugging. “Need any help?” she asked, popping the P.
The Doctor shook his head as if snapping out of a daze. “No. No! Hello, Amy. We’re fine. But we heard screaming. We were wondering if you..”
“Screaming?” Amy said incredulously. She rolled out of bed and slid her feet into her slippers. She approached the Doctor, resting her hands on her hips. She raised a hand and smacked him playfully on the shoulder.
“Ow!” He glared at her, stumbling backwards and clinging onto Rory. “Mr. Pond! She hit me!”
“I wasn’t screaming,” Amy giggled. “I was laughing.”
“Laughing?” The Doctor gaped at her. “You sounded like-”
“Doctor,” Rory gave him a warning look, as if telling him to shut up for his own sake.
“-like a bell!” The Doctor assured her. “Your laughter is like a beautiful ringing bell. But, um-” he fidgets with hands, “what was so funny?”
“Oh, nothing.” She shrugged. “Woke up late, no husband in my bed,” she gave Rory a look, before pausing and glancing down at herself, “and still in yesterday’s clothes, apparently. I’m gonna change and then, breakfast?”
“Breakfast! Yes! Rory made pancakes.”
He had that smile on his face. The one that made Amy feel so loving and protective of him. The one that told her that he wasn’t an ancient alien with billions who had died at his hands, and was instead just her best friend.
“Alright. Give me a minute.” She nodded at them and pulled the door shut.
When Amy turned around, there was someone standing in the corner.
A shapeless figure that, unless she squinted, seemed like it was just part of the wall.
She rubbed her eyes and blinked. The figure didn’t go away. It did the opposite. It began to shift and fold itself into a more discernible shape.
Amy felt it. The knife of fear drove itself into her stomach. She opened her mouth. She had to scream. Someone had to come help her. She tried her hardest to scream. All that came out was a whimper.
“Now now, Amelia,” Madame Kovarian said. “There’s no need to panic. I promise you, it won’t hurt.”
Amy stumbled backwards, falling onto the bed as the woman approached her. She pressed a gloved finger to Amy’s chin.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be awake again soon.”
Amy could feel her eyelids drooping.
“We just need to make sure that you don’t attempt to raise a weapon to combat our own.”
She didn’t understand.
Someone, not Kovarian, someone else, jabbed a syringe into her neck.
Everything hurt. She was ice. She was freezing. She was going to break.
“You’re going to be alright. You might wake up a bit sore. But I promise, it’s in everyone's best interests.”
Amy was unconscious. And then she was awake again. She didn’t remember blacking out. She remembered closing her eyes and opening them again but feeling different when she did. Something was gone. She wrapped her arms around herself and cried because it hurt. It was agony.
She was curled up on her bed, clutching her middle. A soft, pained sound reached her ears, and Amy slowly realized that it was her own pathetic whimpering. She felt Madame Kovarian’s hand run through her hair. Her touch seared Amy’s skin, and she tried her hardest to pull away, but she couldn’t move. Her limbs felt so heavy, as though they’d been turned to lead.
She squeezed her eyes shut and twisted, her hands scrabbling at the sheets as she tried to pull herself away. She had to hurry, or they’d hurt her again.
It was useless. She held her breath. Waiting for Madame Kovarian’s hands to find her once again.
They never did. Amy opened her eyes. She was alone, in her bedroom, in her own house, on Earth.
She shot up, glancing around the room anxiously. There was no one there, and there was no sign that anyone else had been.
Amy stood up, and went over to her dresser. She picked out her clothes and started to change. It was best if she pretended that nothing was wrong.
What was she supposed to say? How could she tell the Doctor and Rory that she was seeing things now?
Was it really just a hallucination? Had they done something to her? Was she a beacon? Could she be luring the enemy to her home and her family?
She could be a danger. Yet, something stopped her from telling them. A fear that had been a part of her since she was a young girl.
They will leave you. You will be alone.
Amy swallowed, her hands shook as she opened the door to her room. Her legs felt weak, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d collapsed right there. The Doctor and Rory were talking in the kitchen, they were waiting for her. She knew what it was like to wait.
Everything would be better if she kept quiet. There was no feeling in the world worse than being left alone.
~
“Amy!” The Doctor called when he saw her in the doorway.
In the brief interval between leaving her room and entering the kitchen, Amy had managed to plaster on the same jaunty smile she’d worn earlier that morning.
“Hello, Doctor!” She beamed, sliding into her place at the table. Across from him, next to Rory. Everything in its place.
“Rory made toast!” He grinned back at her.
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Pond,” she said, as Rory passed her a plate. Their hands brushed as he did, and for a second Amy completely forgot the apparition in her bedroom.
Rory just smiled affectionately and rolled his eyes at her teasing. He’d usually respond with some half-hearted quip about how it was “Mr. Williams” without really meaning it at all. But he didn't, and in the back of her mind Amy wondered if he knew that something new was wrong with her today.
She silently promised herself that she would not let herself worry about what she had seen. This was not the first time she’d had visions of her time at Demons Run, all of which she’d tried to chalk up to trauma and sleep deprivation. But it had never felt this real before, never had it been this solid.
Maybe a good night had been too much to ask for. She’d just be rewarded with a bad day instead.
She rested her hands on the table, staring down at her toast and suddenly not feeling hungry any longer.
She’d struggled with eating since Demons Run, and with Rory working odd hours as a nurse, it was easy for her to lie her way around meals when she needed to. It had simply been difficult, readjusting to things with flavor after months of struggling around tasteless, dry, almost vomit-inducing nutrient cubes. It had gotten better, but things weren’t perfect.
She didn’t want the Doctor to see her struggle with something so silly.
Luckily, Amy was saved by what she would consider her own genius.
“Oh!” She jumped to her feet, nearly startling the Doctor out of his chair. “It’s Saturday! I’ll go get the mail.”
Before either of the other two could object, Amy had raced down the hallway and out the front door, leaving it open behind her.
It was a beautiful day out, she wondered how she could have possibly ever gone so long without seeing the sun. Being ginger, Amy was well aware of how she shone in its light.
Retrieving the mail, she walked back up the stairs to the house, sorting through the stack of letters. It was mostly bills and junk, but at the very bottom of the pile, there was an envelope addressed to her personally.
She paused in the hallway, tearing open the letter.
As her eyes skimmed the paper, Amy's stomach dropped.