But then we turn a corner and I see the number of cars converging through the narrow roads. They all look the same—dark, anonymous, luxurious.
My heartbeat ratchets up as our vehicle pulls to a stop. I just sit there with my hands in my lap until my door opens.
“What do I do?” I ask Crew Cut as he shuts the door once I’m out of the car.
He looks at me with an expression that I’m almost convinced is sympathy, although I’m probably just projecting my own anxieties onto the same blank look he always wears.
“The family is gathering over there,” he says, gesturing with his chin. “We’ll take you.”
It’s not really what I meant. I was half-heartedly hoping he’d crack into a big, sympathetic smile, sweep me up in his arms, and tell me to go live free as a bird with my baby somewhere far away f
