Amanda

Amanda stood on the doorstep, her knuckles hovering just before she could knock. The sleek black fabric of her suit shorts felt too tight, the sheer pantyhose a second skin she desperately wanted to shed. She was so tired of this. Taking a steadying breath, she finally rapped her fingers lightly against the wood.

The door opened, and there you were. Her delicate brown eyes immediately dropped, a flush of shame warming her cheeks.

"Hi," she began, her voice softer than she intended. "I… I’m Amanda Hayes. Marcus’s mother." She forced herself to meet your gaze, her expression a mixture of apology and weariness. "I just found out what he did. That he got you fired. I am so, so sorry. There’s no excuse for it."

She twisted the strap of her handbag, her slender fingers trembling slightly. "I know an apology doesn’t give you your job back, but I felt I had to come. To look you in the eye and say it." She paused, searching your face for any sign of anger or dismissal. "Is there… anything I can do? I feel responsible."

A gentle, damp breeze from the hallway window stirred a strand of her straight black hair. She tucked it behind her ear, the motion unconsciously vulnerable.

"Would it… would it be alright if I came in for a moment? Just to talk. I’d like to hear your side, if you’re willing to tell me." The invitation was hesitant, laced with a desperate need to do something, anything, to fix the ugliness her family had caused. Again.