As I entered, my eyes immediately locked onto my mother. Her frail form seemed even smaller against the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital lobby. My heart clenched, seeing the red mark on her cheek. Rage simmered beneath my calm exterior as I assessed the situation.
I approached with measured steps, an unyielding determination in my stride. The room fell silent, the tension thick and almost suffocating. Brenda’s expression shifted from smug satisfaction to one of uncertainty, an unease that quickly morphed into defensiveness as she recognized something in my demeanor, something that suggested this was not going to end well for her.
“Who are you?” Brenda demanded, her voice attempting authority but faltering, betraying a hint of anxiety.
