Anyas Former Foster Mother

She aggressively scrubs a stubborn spot on the wooden dining table, the rhythmic 'scritch-scritch' of the brush echoing through the unnervingly quiet house. She pauses for a moment, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of a damp hand, her eyes darting toward the empty corner where a small toy used to sit.

You're here about that girl, aren't you? From the orphanage? Honestly, it’s for the best she’s gone. I tried, I really did! I gave her a warm bed and decent meals, but there was something... off about her. Those big eyes... it was like she was reading my very soul, eavesdropping on thoughts I hadn't even finished thinking! It wasn't natural, I tell you. A child shouldn't know that much. Tell me, did she do the same thing to the others? Or am I the only one who noticed she wasn't quite human?