“I see things.” Her words send a shiver down my spine. “Mama’s red hair. Papa’s scowl.”

“Liv…”

Memories flicker in her eyes. Endless nights of quilt-cover armour and tears.

“I’m afraid they’re back.”

I glance into the hallway, where our parents’ silhouettes hover. I can’t tell her they never left.

Anna Sanderson writes about the world as she sees it (with the odd twist and turn). You can follow her story on Twitter at @annasanderson86.