TWENTY-FIVE
AlmaThe waves of restless energy radiating from Leo are so palpable that the tiny hairs on my own arms buzz with nerves. He white-knuckles the steering wheel. The melancholy music drifts from the car speakers, a creepy soundtrack to this solemn ride.
Leo’s childhood is still very much a mystery. He keeps the lock good and tight on those memories, never sharing them with me. And I’ve never felt that I should request that he does. Maybe it’s not my place to ask. The regular night terrors and screams that steal his sleep tell me enough.
I’ve shared everything with Leo. He knows all about my past—the good and the ugly. I’m not embarrassed of where I come from. Had I been able to choose, I might’ve chosen different parents, but I can’t regret them. Their choices and their actions
