CHAPTER 11
I followed him into the side room, my chest tight like someone was tying a rope around it. My uncle’s back was broad in front of me, his shoulders stiff, like he was dragging me into something I couldn’t escape. The room wasn’t big, just one of those sitting rooms people barely used—dusty curtains, chairs that looked too heavy to move, a center table stacked with old newspapers.
He shut the door behind us. That sound alone made my stomach sink.
He turned and gave me that look—half pity, half power. “Sit down.”
I didn’t sit. My legs refused.
He chuckled under his breath, not real laughter, just the kind that mocked you without words. “So you think you’re too big now? Your father’s not here to cover you anymore.”
The way he said your father made something in me burn. My dad
