Nera
For some reason, I expected it to be raining on the day of my father’s funeral. Like it did when we buried Elmo. And Mom. It’s strange to be standing at the cemetery, watching the casket being lowered into the ground on such a beautiful sunny day.
Zara is next to me, clutching my hand in hers so hard, I fear she’ll break my fingers. She and our father never had a good relationship, but his death shook her more than I could have anticipated. Thank God I sent her home before everything went down that night.
As I lift my eyes off the casket, my gaze falls on the man in a prison uniform standing across from me on the other side of the grave. Two guards flank him, even though his hands are cuffed in front. I haven’t seen our stepbrother in over a decade, and if I passed him on the stree
