Prologue
Asya
It’s snowing.
The ground is cold on my back, scraping my shoulder blades, as I stare over the man’s shoulder into the dark expanse above me. Everything seems blurry. I can’t discern separate snowflakes, but I can feel them falling on my face. Fragile. Delicate. They remind me of the notes in one of the pieces by Erik Satie so I hum the tune while a searing pain keeps tearing at my insides.
Should it hurt this much? I know it was supposed to hurt at first, but I never imagined it would keep hurting.
The man grunts and the weight is suddenly gone. I slide my hand down my stomach and over the fabric of my torn dress to press my palm between my legs. Wetness. Too much. Way too much. I raise my hand in front of my face, staring at my blood-covered fingers while the melody
