Iris's POV
"Iris, it's me, Amelia," she said, stepping closer to the bed. Her auburn hair, loosely tied in a messy braid, swayed slightly with her movement, and her eyes now filled with unshed tears and sadness. She leaned in, her hands hovering near mine as if she wanted to reach out but wasn't sure I'd welcome it. "Look," she said, pointing to my wrist.
I followed her gaze, my eyes landing on a thin black rope tied around my wrist, knotted tightly but not painful as I noticed an identical one on her wrist too.
"I'm your sister." She added.
For some reason, I wanted to believe her but something held me back, a nagging instinct that her words didn't quite fit the puzzle of my confused mind.
"Mother gave these to us," Amelia continued, her voice softening as she sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle me. Her fingers brushed the rope on her own wrist, her eyes not leaving mine. "She said they'd keep us safe, no matter what. Iris, you're my sister. Do you remember?"
