The feeling was not of anger or of hatred. It was the bone sinking, gut wrenching quiet whisper of doubt.
It was the thoughts Felicity didn’t even know where there until Gerrard had pointed them out. Her snappiness. Her temper.
She was scared, scared for them all, but she’d never admit it.
She’d never admit they could never go home.
First Post in 2020
Featured Image by Alice Hampson on Unsplash