I look down at her, lying fast asleep - always my little girl, and so beautiful. She gives a low moan as her head turns restlessly on the pillow. It reminds me of the soft growl of a cornered animal. Where is my poor child? What is she dreaming?
People always notice my daughter, Isobel. How could they not? Incredibly beautiful... until she speaks.
An unsettling, little-girl voice, exactly like...