Krystal’s Point Of View
The letter was still in my hands. I read it twice, then a third time in the hope that I read the words wrongly.
He sold your name. The phrase wrapped itself around my ribs and squeezed. My father’s crimes had long haunted the corners of my past, but I never imagined they’d spill into the present, into this.
It shouldn’t have felt threatening, but everything in this room was suddenly laced with menace. The apple slices. The tea. Even the little girl’s sketchbook still lying open on the floor with a drawing of what looked like me sleeping with red scribbles all over my arm.
I folded the letter and as I did so I hid Cecilia's words, folding them down in the hope that they could be made less true.
They want you.
I had no idea, but Cecilia was frightened even in
